Welcome to Hell: Devils' Edition
by Shriayle
Summary: They managed to survive the three years of pain. Now, five years after graduation, they've come back to cull the numbers the same way they were once culled in the tasks they survived. Now that they've matured, how will their budding relationships, cut short all those years ago, begin to sprout again? Rated T for language, mostly.
1. DAY 1: ARRIVAL

**...I shouldn't be writing this. Too bad the idea wouldn't leave me alone, eh?**

 **Welcome to my first foray into the world of anime fanfiction! Here we start with one of my favorite manga/anime of all time. There's not really much to say here, yet, but I'm rather excited for this!**

 **I am also more than a little salty that Satoshi doesn't have a character tag at the moment, seeing as he's pretty much my favorite character. That attic-crawling, apron-wearing weirdo...**

 **Also, all of my spellings are based on the Wiki, and my knowledge of Japanese suffixes comes from Wikipedia.**

 **Oh, and before I forget: from now until the end of this story, I do not own Shokugeki no Soma, nor do I own any of the characters here. All I own is a modicum of this plot.**

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Hell on Earth. Why anyone would subject themselves to it is questionable in and of itself. Why would you force yourself through a week of rigorous torture? Any sane person wouldn't associate themselves with it whatsoever.

Then again, no sane person would enter themselves into Tōtsuki Academy without meaning to beat everyone around them from age fifteen, the moment they left middle school. The institution had the power to single-handedly destroy a chef's reputation in the field; enrolling is an honor, but graduating? It was the most prestigious of titles, the one dream that united the thousand children milling about the hotel banquet hall, silent from nerves. The expansive room had been cleared of its typical tables and the chairs, some of which seated students, were all shoved against the walls. All that remained of its typical set-up was the large mahogany stage that took over a large portion of the wall farthest from the door and the typical crimson curtains that decorated the rest of the wall.

Behind the curtains, a red-haired young man was peeking out at the crowd, appraising the room and students. His golden eyes darted across the unknown faces, his eyes narrowing as he took in one student who seemed perfectly relaxed. A lazy grin stretched across his face when he saw her and looked her over. _Her hands betray long-healed knife cuts, and when she stretched her arms out, there are scars on her thumbs and even a callous on the bottom of her right index finger. She knows her way around a blade, and probably around a kitchen._ He stopped in his analysis of the student when a faint trace of citrus touched his sensitive nose. _Damn, Shinomiya-senpai's going to get on someone's ass again this year._

"Are you finished staring at the 97th generation, Yukihira-san?" Yukihira Sōma glanced behind him, noticing that his former Second Seat, Nakiri Erina, was standing right behind him. Her eyebrows were arranged in an expression of curiosity, but he noticed the typical icy glare she had for him that undermined the former emotion.

"Eh, not sure, Erina," he said casually, ignoring how her eyebrow twitched in irritation at his nonchalant lack of honorific. Sōma stretched his arms, careful to avoid revealing his presence to the students on the other side of the thick red fabric. "I saw a girl you might be interested in. She's got the hands of someone who was in the kitchen for all of her life."

"So, basically like you were?" she asked, rolling her pinkish-violet eyes while simultaneously flicking her blonde hair behind her shoulder. Soma smirked at the gesture he remembered.

"Exactly! Oh, Takumi too," he added as an afterthought.

The blond boy in question glanced over, his blue eyes appraising the two. "Buck up, you two," he grumbled, not sure of what they were talking about. "Chapelle-sensei wants to start speaking. And you know he likes his dramatic entrances."

Erina chuckled at that, sounding all the more malicious for it. "Oh, why he does indeed, Aldini-san." The Italian chef shivered at her tone.

"Hush, children; Chapelle-sensei wants to start," the man in front of them said. Soma started when he recognized the alumnus's voice.

"Isshiki-senpai?!" he asked, thunderstruck.

"Yukihira-kun, didn't you recognize me?" the former Second Seat, Isshiki Satoshi, asked with a grin. "Come on, we dormed together for two years."

"You spent about eighty percent of the time wearing a lot less than you are now," Sōma muttered under his breath. Erina and Takumi gave them questioning looks at that, though Sōma just waved them off with an errant hand.

"...guest lecturers." It seemed as though Chapelle-sensei had already started his rather short speech and the time to walk onto stage was now.

"Isshiki-senpai, for the love of all things holy, please don't bring out your fundoshi skills now," Sōma muttered. Satoshi just chuckled and shook his head. "I'm saving that for later," he said, eyes closed, smiling innocently.

Soma only had time to roll his eyes at him when he heard Chapelle-sensei's cue words: "They're Tōtsuki Academy's prized alumni."

"He's changed the wording a bit, hasn't he?" Takumi muttered. Sōma hummed in agreement while the other two just shushed them again.

"Let's go," Satoshi said quietly, following the older alumni out with a serene smile on his face. Sōma felt his heart begin to race, but he smothered that in favor of a cocky grin, shoving his hands into his pocket to complete his look. He glanced at Erina and Takumi; the former had chosen her typical cool nonchalance as a mask while the latter had his chin raised high with an easy smile on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest. Sōma grinned even wider, turning back around and seeing that Satoshi hadn't changed into his gag-apron costume, much to Sōma's relief. Other familiar faces were in the fifteen-or-so alumni that had been asked to take part in the training camp, including some from Sōma's year as well as the very chefs who judged him in his own first year.

One dark-skinned chef, his white hair tied back in a ponytail, caught Sōma's eye and nodded to him respectfully. Another of the same complexion winked at him. A woman with wavy dark brown hair smiled benevolently at the students while observing them all. A tall spectacled man with pink hair was staring straight at a student, his eyes narrowed in slight revulsion.

 _Here it comes,_ Sōma felt himself think.

"You there. The girl with the blonde streak in her hair."

The girl in question blinked before smiling uncertainly.

"And you. The boy with the round glasses."

A boy with golden brown hair jumped.

"No, not you. The one behind you. You two are expelled."

Sōma heard the shock of the people surrounding them as students moved away from the two victims of Shinomiya's words.

"There's one more, senpai," the white-haired man from earlier said quietly. "In the very back, the girl with the long black hair."

"Thank you, Hayama-kun," the pink-haired man said. "You three may go home."

"What? Why?!" the first girl said, having recovered from her shock.

"Your perfume, his shampoo, and her hair," Shinomiya listed off. "All three of you use a scented shampoo, and you in particular use a cherry-blossom scented spray. Anything with an artificial smell can block out a food's aroma, preventing you from knowing if you forgot an ingredient or added too much of one. It's important to maintain your hygiene and image, but not in a way that hinders your cooking. You are dismissed."

"That's not fair!" the girl in the back said. Sōma noticed that she looked close to tears. He and Takumi exchanged a grim glance. Shinomiya Kojiro was known for his lack of empathy, especially towards ignorant young chefs.

"It's perfectly fair," Hayama Akira, the one who noticed the final girl, spoke up. "Failing to add an ingredient or destroying a customer's palate due to a single style choice, one that isn't even too necessary for being stylish, is not allowed."

"I can change my shampoo!" the boy said desperately. "Please, I can do anything!"

Sōma winced, knowing what was to come.

"You can do anything?" Shinomiya asked. "Then you can get out. Are you trying to ruin my restaurant's reputation?"

All Sōma could hear now was the students in front of him whispering about Shinomiya's reputation, that he had won the Pluspol, that his judgment left no room for error. The red-haired man's cocky grin was gone now. Now, he was looking around, finding the girl he had noticed earlier to see her reaction.

Surprise, but not overwhelmingly so. Perhaps she knew that they had to leave for what they had done, though she herself had not picked up on the hair products. Sōma grimaced as the three students left slowly, but the citrus scent he had noticed earlier was now completely gone, as were all of the artificial scents. Akira and Shinomiya had easily picked out all three offenders, and the remainder knew what the standards were to succeed now.

"Are we allowed to mill amongst them right now?" Sōma asked Erina.

"I wouldn't suggest it," she replied. "Chapelle-sensei will want to continue on. You could go and talk to whoever you wanted to later, when you test her."

"True," Sōma mused, though his impatient attitude was leaking out of him as he continued to study the students in front of him.

"Hush! Dōjima-dono is going to speak!" Takumi said in a quiet voice. _Dono?_ Soma wondered, but he quieted for the intimidating man.

"Welcome to Tōtsuki Resort," he said into the microphone. "We alumni are gathered here to test your knowledge in the kitchens. Throughout this week, you will be treated as employees in our own restaurants. I hope you understand what this means: if your work does not satisfy what we want to see, you will be fired, or, in other words, expelled. Depending on the lecturer's discretion, you will be asked to leave. You are dismissed for now. Start moving."

There was a mad rush to rooms as the students hurried to get their rest before their hell began. Soon, only alumni were in the banquet hall.

"Rather quiet, isn't it?" Soma said absentmindedly, unknowingly breaking the aforementioned quiet.

"Indeed," Mito Ikumi, who had been standing with Akira, said. Sōma grinned at her before sitting on the stage. The other alumni blinked at his actions, since they were getting ready to leave as well.

"Oh, come on!" Sōma said with a laugh. "If we're going to be working together to choose the next generation of Totsuki, we might as well try and get to know each other better, no?"

"A great idea," Satoshi said, sitting beside Sōma. Somehow, between standing and sitting, he managed to completely undress and put on his fundoshi without hesitation. The alumni who weren't used to his antics were completely shell-shocked while Sōma just rolled his eyes. After seeing that spectacle, the remaining eleven or so people exchanged looks before also sitting on the ground.

"Why are we on the stage when we could be sitting on the chairs?" Shinomiya muttered.

"If Shinomiya-sama wants to drag chairs around while the rest of us watch, I'll be happy to oblige," Mizuhara Fuyumi murmured, earning herself a sharp glance from the pink-haired chef.

Dōjima chuckled before seating himself on the ground as well. "This is a good idea, Sōma-kun. We can see just what we are planning to test the students with and be sure that our assignments do not overlap, making the process much more efficient."

"Exactly! If I'm looking for other chefs to work at Yukihira with me, I want to see the best of the best that managed to succeed in all of our demands, even Shinomiya-senpai's!" Sōma said cheerfully, earning himself a glance filled with the promise of death.

"I will begin. Dōjima Gin, member of the 69th Generation, former First Seat."

"Shinomiya Kojiro, 79th Generation, former First Seat."

"Mizuhara Fuyumi." "Isshiki Satoshi." "Eishi Tsukasa." "Kinokuni Nene." "Aldini Takumi." "Yukihira Sōma." "Nakiri Erina." "Mito Ikumi." "Hayama Akira." "Kuga Terunori." "Inui Hinako."

And thus they all went around. Soma realized that his class had the most representation with five alumni while most of the others only had one or two representatives, though 91st had three.

"Why are there so many here from 92nd Generation?" Erina asked, stealing the question from Soma's mouth.

"To be frank, the others didn't want to come. I think their kitchens are full enough, while you five are still establishing your place on the international field," Dōjima replied.

"Also, your generation is one of the strongest we've seen yet," Chapelle-sensei added, having walked back to see the thirteen alumni sitting in a circle like elementary school children. "Before the 92nd generation, the most graduates that we've ever had was around six. Your generation had nine powerful players, four of which are honing their craft working for one of the other alumni here before branching out. You five have shown the most promise by becoming master chefs so early in your career."

"Nine graduates?!" Inui Hinako was shocked out of her typical cool demeanor, raising a hand to cover her shock. "Wow, that's amazing!"

"We were hoping to have numbers in the double-digits," Takumi said with a sigh. "Didn't quite happen, unfortunately."

"A lot of people were expelled at the very end for the tiniest of faults, but better that they be expelled late than tarnish Tōtsuki's reputation later," Erina said with a sniff, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she said so.

"Still as ruthless as ever, aren't you, Erina?" Ikumi said from the other side of the circle, chuckling. "Really was a pity that a few of us survived all three years only to be expelled for having just one grain of salt too many or boiling something for a second too much, but that was what we signed up for when we decided to attend Tōtsuki."

"Who else graduated?" Terunori asked, leaning back on his hands.

"Um, Tadokoro Megumi, Nakiri Alice, Kurokiba Ryō, and Ibusaki Shun," Sōma said, counting them off on his fingers.

"No other Polar Stars?" Satoshi was unable to completely hide his disappointment, though three of the eight had managed to graduate.

"Well, Marui cracked under pressure one too many times, and Aoki and Sato were fighting over something while cooking and forgot to add garlic to their marinade. Ryoko willingly left to work at her family's business after she came up with a blend of natto that kept its flavor while losing some of its scent, which expanded the business to the Western world, and Yūki is still at Totsuki, only she works with Fumio-san to take care of Polar Star while she works on her chicken breeding. Something about not wanting to leave before she perfected it," Sōma recited, checking each person off with his fingers.

"Sounds like Yoshino-san," Satoshi said with a sigh.

"Megumi-chan graduated?" Hinako perked up, her eyes sparkling.

"We are getting completely off topic," Fuyumi said, curling her knees up until they rested beneath her elbows. "I want to get back to the room before we continue this discussion.

"Fine by me," Dōjima said before anyone else could complain. "Let's go to the alumni floor and continue there. We can compare our tests and make certain that the 97th Generation will be the most well-groomed class to leave our training camp yet."

* * *

 **Well, first chapter done, not sure when the second will come out! This story will not focus on the students so much as the alumni of the 92nd Generation here and the tests they will put out. There will probably be some argument settled over cooking as well as students who stand out as stellar chefs in their own right, to be fair.**

 **Until next time! Review if you have any questions!**

 **~Shriayle**


	2. DAY 1: SOMA'S TASK

**There was a lot of nice feedback on this story, and since I've kind of hit a wall with my other active ones, I'm probably going to be dedicating a little more time to this one as I try to write past my block.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Cat McHall:** Yeah, I imagine that it would be a disappointment, but I believe Tōtsuki is the place where head chefs are trained and thus only the most competitive that strove to be the best in every single action and word would really survive. I would believe that this is the Jewels Generation as most of the all-stars who left Tōtsuki in that generation weren't expelled but chose to leave to sharpen their skills elsewhere, the way Jōichirō chose to leave Tōtsuki to be wander the world. What Erina says kind of contradicts that, but that's because it's Erina seeing the mediocre chefs get cut and not paying attention to those she knows will have careers even if they leave the Academy. | **lindsjune:** Ahhh thank you! I just really liked the training camp for whatever reason. And I'm not sure what will come after the entire camp is finished; I might have Sōma go on an international trip to visit everyone xD Oh, and thanks for the correction! I was trying to remember Takumi's first name while writing out 'Nakiri' I guess. What's funny is that Alice's surname was correct -_- | **raydark182:** I'm not sure yet if they're together before the story starts, funny enough. Personally, I thought that Ikumi's infatuation with Sōma was adorable, even if it was a little random :3 | **Guest:** Thank you!

* * *

The buses pulled up to the small building where Sōma's trial would take place. It was barely inside of the fence that marked the boundary of Tōtsuki's land, but there was more than enough room for the couple hundred students that were currently being tested at the location. Sōma had already conversed with the other alumnus in the building (someone from 89th Generation that he didn't really recognize, to be honest) and their task was perfectly synced down to the minute details. Now, he was waiting for his 'class'.

Sōma heard the confusion from the students that had arrived in his kitchen classroom thing (he wasn't quite sure what to call it, himself). After all, he wasn't standing in the front of the room, but watching them from the back of the kitchen. He noticed that most of the students piled in boisterously and glanced around, sometimes even looking straight at him without noticing, before going to their stations to comment loudly on the objects there, mostly in confusion. Some lifted the lid to the large pot and peered in, speculating if he wanted them to make some kind of soup or something. _I wonder why it takes people trained in the art of cooking so long to figure out what I'm planning,_ Sōma thought, remembering back to his first year and the first time he met Erina, including his jab at her for not recognizing his furikake. As more and more students piled in, Sōma began to feel a twinge of the stage-fright that had once plagued Megumi.

The students all became one major mass to him until he noticed one specific student. It was the student that he had seen before. She was wearing a grey loose-fitting jacket that wrapped around from her left side before connecting to the bottom right part of its seam with sleeves that cut off just below her elbows, and her pants were just as loose though they tightened near her ankles. There were lines of black fabric as decoration on the jacket, and some golden characters that he didn't quite recognize stitched onto the upper part of her left sleeve. He recognized one thing about the uniform, though: it was a standard chef's uniform, worn in the kitchen of those restaurants that didn't quite care for their outward appearance. Namely, a diner, just like the one he ran, though probably much less prestigious as Restaurant Yukihira was at this point.

All of the students had filed in by now. The girl was beginning to tie up her rather long dark brown hair, but rather than just tying it in a ponytail, she wrapped it up in a complicated looking bun before stabbing it with a chopstick she pulled out of her pocket. Other students were going through similar preparations: shaking their hands out, stretching their shoulders, tying up hair, rolling up loose sleeves.

"Where's the chef?" one student asked loudly to another. The other replied, "Dunno. Maybe whoever it is overslept."

The girl glanced behind her, locking eyes with Sōma. So she had seen him when she walked in. Interesting.

Sōma waited for just a second longer, listening to the complaints against him grew increasingly more annoyed and much louder before just as loudly faking a sneeze. The entire class went dead silent except for the sounds of ruffling fabric and surprised gasps as everyone turned to see Sōma smirking at them, not at all looking as though he just sneezed.

"Well, it happens," he said with a laugh. "So, seems like Dojima-senpai has hammered something into you: don't speak when the head chef is speaking! Another thing to remember: never get louder than a normal speaking voice in the kitchen. Trust me, when orders start to pile up and you don't know which table ordered what and your chefs are scrambling to get sauces and soups to one another, noise is the last thing you need." Sōma began to stride forward, his long legs taking him to the front of the room quickly and deftly. "My name is Yukihira Sōma, as you should know, and I am of Tōtsuki's 92nd Generation."

Murmurs began to erupt throughout the mass of students. After all, Sōma's story was borderline legendary. Son of "Asura" Saiba Joichiro, head chef of Restaurant Yukihira, a small-town diner with a huge spotlight in the international world known for its innovative flavors, known for his creative impulse as well as his extreme knowledge of almost every cuisine in the world. On top of it all, he was one of those rare chefs who willingly associated with his customers, be they middle school students or the most elite of critics.

And, of course, who could forget that he was a former First Seat, and one from the legendary Jewels Generation, known as the Crown Jewels of Tōtsuki Academy? To be able to stand above the others in his year was a major accomplishment the eighty students in the room dreamed of.

"Now, I'm sure you'd like to get cooking and get out of here as fast as possible," Sōma said lightly. He noticed some of the students subconsciously nod at his remark. He let a smirk slip out before pointing at the two students who had done so. Coincidentally, they were the first students to loudly complain about his 'absence.'

"May I ask you two to please leave the room, then?" Sōma said pleasantly. They froze, uncertain. "I don't want anyone who doesn't want to be here, fighting for their position, to complacently breeze through my task without any passion in their hands. You're fired. Please leave."

The boys began to shout their discontent. "We haven't even cooked anything yet!" "This is unfair!" "This is almost as bad as that shampoo guy!"

Sōma walked over to their table and grabbed one of the larger knives from the utensils. Without looking, he flung it into the air, letting it spin in aerial arcs, before swiping his hand just as it began to fall, grabbing it perfectly by the handle and pointing it at one of the boys. "I'm afraid you have forgotten what Dojima-senpai told us earlier. We are the masters of these kitchens now, and we've survived all of the stuff you need to. Get out of the kitchen."

The boys left without another word, staring at the blade in Sōma's hand. As Sōma watched the students shuffle out, he remembered an incident from the summer before he joined Tōtsuki. Inspired, the red-haired young man glanced down, grabbed a pinch of salt, and threw it at the retreating students, making them run out even faster. Once the door swung shut behind them, Sōma turned back to the rest of the class and gave them a gleeful smile. All of them looked frightened now. Maybe that was because he was giving them a toothy smile as well as still holding a sharpened knife blade.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, it's time for you to cook! You have two hours to make... hmm... how about a korokke?"

The students blinked. Korokke? Deep-fried mashed potatoes with meat included? That was all? It was literal vendor food!

Sōma clapped twice (he had put the knife down by now) and laughed. "Come on, now, time's ticking!"

The students fled into a frenzy, running over to where Sōma had been standing earlier to grab for their ingredients. They grabbed their choice meats, onions, bags of flour. Some even tried to balance eggs back to their workstation, though that didn't work out for a couple students. The boxes of panko, bottles of oil, and spices began to vanish from the cabinets.

Sōma carefully positioned his hand in front of his face, concealing his smirk, as students began the final rush to grab the most important ingredient of all.

"EHH?!"

The students stared in dismay at the sight before them. Five sacks of potatoes, with the eyes grown out and some of them even beginning to decay. Removing the eyes from enough potatoes to make a decent korokke would take much too long, far longer including the rest of the preparation time they needed in the two hours, and there was no telling how many of the other potatoes were going bad.

"Chef Yukihira?" one voice called. "There aren't any potatoes. What do we do?"

Much to the students' panic and outrage, the red-haired young man just shrugged and sat on a table that had been set up in the front of the room. He stretched complacently and loudly yawned. "Why don't you figure it out? You're chefs, right?" he asked with a feline grin.

Only a few students seemed to understand immediately, including the girl he had pinpointed. Her dark purple eyes flew open before she changed direction and ran straight for the refrigerator. Sōma noticed her leave with some rather unusual vegetables overflowing from her arms as she returned to her station, beginning her preparations. He blinked before narrowing his eyes, wondering why she had an entire clove of garlic in her hands.

Other students floundered. Some went to the refrigerator, others ran back to the pantry. Sōma decided to stop hiding his smirk and leaned back on his hands. "As soon as your korokke is ready, please bring it up here," he called out. A few students responded with a "Haii!" or a "Yes, chef!" and Sōma quickly remembered their faces so he could recall them again when they brought him their food to judge.

Yukihira closed his eyes, taking in the smells of the students cooking and the sounds of hot pots filled with oil singing and fizzing. He heard the sounds of the refrigerator door being opened and closed, which he dismissed with a snort. Some people prepared korokke with the cool of the machine, he knew. Perhaps an hour passed before someone approached him. He opened one eye to see who it was.

Not someone he had noticed earlier. It was a girl with pinkish-brown hair tied back in a single braid, wide green eyes, and trembling pale hands that had obviously never seen a kitchen. Something in her eyes seemed to expose her nerves and lack of confidence, two traits that Sōma had long since learned to be wary of. Sōma decided to reserve his judgment until he saw her plate.

"That's a, um, rather small korokke," Sōma commented, poking the potato ball with a fork. "Seems more like a tater tot to me."

"I-I tried to salvage what I could of the potatoes, sir," she said in a miniscule voice. Sighing, Sōma put the fork down in favor of just holding the korokke with his hands. It was still hot, as she had just taken it out of her pot, but it was manageable, and Sōma bit off half of it with one bite.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He knew that if he were Erina, he would have some peculiar metaphor about elephants at a safari in his mind's eye. Pursing his lips slightly, he stared at the korokke, trying to see what had happened.

"Did you refrigerate this?" he asked.

"H-Haii, chef."

"Where did you refrigerate it?"

"I-I'm not sure, sir."

"It definitely got some foreign tastes in there. Maybe the natto? No, probably the fish," Sōma said with a sigh. "I'm afraid I can't pass you. You have the time remaining to try again.

She looked ready to cry, but she merely bowed quickly and rushed back to try it again. Sōma furrowed his brow; the girl reminded him of Megumi from before she found her confident stride, and though he wished to let her through, he knew that his job entailed slicing down students' careers for cooking errors and not just management errors like citrus shampoo and a reluctance to cook. Other students approached them with their own creation, some of which he approved of but most of which he disapproved of, sending the students back to try again. Of course, some students incited his famous temper.

"Honestly, don't you know what a rotten potato smells like?!" he nearly shouted at one boy who had the audacity to try and hide some of the grosser parts of the potato in his korokke. Sōma really had the urge to literally dropkick the food onto the ground, Chapelle be damned. "You're expelled. Get out of here."

"B-but I have thirty minutes!"

"I. Don't. Care," Sōma ground out through his teeth. "That you would try this on a professional chef is embarrassing enough, but now I don't know if you would treat the customers in a restaurant setting. You could shut a place down by thinking that you can get away with this!"

The boy left in tears, and the remaining students buckled down even more. The ones who had passed were staring at Sōma in a rather terrified manner, but he didn't really care anymore.

"Excuse me, chef."

Sōma's irritated glance snapped towards the girl in front of him. A girl with a dark brown bun in her hair and determined purple eyes. A girl with a knife callous and a myriad of scars on her thumbs.

The other students winced in pity for her, but she did not budge, merely holding her plate with the korokke.

"I am done. Please judge my food," she said, bowing her head slightly.

Sōma took her dish and first allowed the scents to wash around him. There was a much more distinct freshness about the korokke, and it looked much lighter in color than the others that he had seen. She also had chosen not to include a sauce the way that other students had. Carefully, he took his fork and broke a piece off to examine the insides.

A buttery, rich scent drifted up and tickled his nostrils, engulfing him in a world of golden steam. He noticed some of the juices begin to slowly trickle out, and the brown pieces of meat within the korokke were much more colorful than that of her peers. He thought he saw the smoky-clear tendril of a noodle spiral through the korokke as well, which baffled him, and other vegetables peeked out from the inside of the korokke. He speared the piece he had cut off onto his fork and placed it in his mouth.

The flavor, once so rich in scent only, exploded tenfold the second he touched his taste buds. Sōma felt himself being transported through his imagination to what appeared to be the scene of a festival. Lit streets filled his gaze around him as he ran through the streets until he reached a park. Black buildings gave way to the darkened silhouettes of trees as he stared wide-eyed at the star-filled sky above him. With no warning, yellow and white fireworks exploded in front of him, filling his senses with the excitement and child-like joy of his past while washing over his palate with a refreshing aftertaste. Each flavor was distinct and a wonderful experience in and of itself, and part of that was dedicated to the different inside of the korokke. Unlike the typical potato fried food, none of the flavors were really absorbed away from the morsels that were kneaded into the vegetable mash. The meat was far juicier than any that he had tasted in a korokke, and the noodles provided some interesting texture with a bounce as opposed to the soft innards of the korokke. Sōma savored the last tiny bits of food as he felt the bread-like food melt in his mouth.

"This korokke... it's not made of potatoes, is it?" he asked.

The girl shook her head. "It's boiled cauliflower prepared with butter and cream. My mother once made it for me like this. And the beef is traditional Korean bulgogi with a soy sauce and caramelized onion base and garlic to flavor. There's japchae in there too, much like our own kind of korokke, though we call it keuroket, and there are green onions and other fresh vegetables I found, chef."

"We?" Sōma couldn't help but ask, setting the plate down.

The girl's chin raised slightly out of her own sense of pride. "My name is Mun Seoyun, sous chef of Mun Shikdang, a diner based in Seoul," she proclaimed, earning herself some rather dirty looks from the rest of the room. The prejudice against common cooking was still profound, Sōma noticed.

Sōma felt another smirk stretch across his face as he held out his hand. "Well, Mun-chan, you passed with flying colors."

She took his hand before whooping and yanking the chopstick out of her hair, smiling triumphantly. She quickly bowed shallowly to him before running over to the group of people who had also passed. Sōma noticed that the pinkish-brown haired girl, who he had since passed after his initial dismissal, greeted her with shining eyes and a squeal, hugging her until Seoyun complained. Another boy he passed, one with blazing orange hair sticking up all over his head, slapped her on the back, earning himself a glare and a threatening fist. He stuck his tongue out at her and five seconds later was the not-so-proud new owner of a rather large bump on his head, which he gingerly poked with a wince.

Sōma shook his head at the antics, which reminded him of Yūki and Ryoko's typical shebang and maybe even Aoki and Sato's rivalry. Why did his peers from Polar Star, so focused on enjoying their time at school, pop up even now, five years later when he had to focus on eliminating students? It just made his job that much more difficult.

Soon, he was calling out for the students to stop and for any last attempts to bring him their dish. Around twenty students crumpled to the ground with groans and discouraged cries while another seventeen or so rushed up to him with their attempts. After tasting their final tries, Sōma only passed around ten more students before sighing and standing.

 _This challenge was to weed out those who can't see past their own idea of what a food item is to reinvent and recreate with different ingredients. In the cooking world, a lack of basic ingredients is always something you have to learn how to work around. Anyone who can't manage to come up with a decent replacement for something as widely used as potatoes doesn't deserve a place at Tōtsuki_ , Sōma thought grimly. He remembered Inui saying something similar in their brief discussion before the task to what he thought, and while it saddened him that he had to dismiss so many students, it was that crucial adaptability that made his name so well known in the industry now. Sighing, he gathered the remaining students and sent them to the bus, instructing them to be prepared for their next challenge to come.

* * *

 **Now, this is where I have found some difficulty. In the original manga/anime, there are maybe ten tasks including the 50-Dinner challenge and the Breakfast Buffet challenge. I have created thirteen that I feel would fit throughout the five days. For now, I'm planning to add in an extra day before the Breakfast challenge in order to fully explore all of the possibilities, but Seoyun won't show up for all of the challenges. I've been creating other student characters that will be the key focus in each challenge, with some repeats. Thanks for reading!**

 **Also, if you're curious how many people Sōma ended up 'firing', it will be revealed next chapter!**

 **Mun Seoyun is my original character, haha. If you want to know what she looks like, imagine a nicer version of Akako from Detective Conan. Also with purple eyes. It's the closest comparison that I can think of off the top of my head.**

 **~Shriayle**


	3. DAY 1: INTERLUDE

**I'd like to point out one major edit that I have made in the first chapter: rather than Isami, Ryo is the ninth person to graduate in 92nd Generation. Since this fanfiction is practically a rough draft right now, I will probably always be checking back with the older chapters and fixing these kinds of things in order to make my final plotline work out. This decision came from my typical daily rereading of the manga and deciding that I wanted another plot point in this story that isn't possible with Isami's graduation. I still love that shark-toothed guy, though.**

 **Also, I'm not sure what to do about people's names. I'm definitely doing first names for the 92nd Generation, but I'm not certain about others. I think I'm going to use Satoshi's first name, but the rest of the alumni are probably going to be last names just because it's what the 92nd Generation have called them for the entire series.**

 **For those of you who are curious, in the 92nd Generation, all nine graduates were in the Elite Ten (of course). Sōma was First Seat, Erina was Second, Akira was Third, Alice was Fourth, Megumi was Fifth, Takumi was Sixth (he was rather salty about that at the time), Shun was Seventh, Ikumi was Eighth, and Ryō was Ninth. However, none of these positions were what the Elite Ten originally looked like in the beginning of their third year. In fact, there was a record number of Shokugeki that year because the Elite Ten were constantly fighting over the order, and it was only after President Senzaemon himself didn't let them Shokugeki during the final two months of instruction in order to focus on their studies that the order settled to what it was. (fun fact: once Sōma got First Seat, no one dared to challenge him, so he was left to watch everyone else fight. Since he got bored, he ended up challenging Takumi to a Shokugeki and beat the Italian-born chef pretty soundly)**

 **Also, if you're disappointed that this isn't another challenge chapter, this is a replacement for Inui's chapter. I didn't feel like detailing her entire challenge, since it's the same one that she's always had.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **lindsjune:** Yep! We've got Seoyun to add to the mix now, as well as her rather international comrades. I'm glad that her food interlude (not exactly a foodgasm, I'd say) got you hungry! It made my mouth water as well xD And as a Korean-American, I couldn't help but slide in a Korean character :P Sōma's challenge... well, the numbers are in this chapter. I had a lot of fun coming up with the other challenges, as well! Some were a bit tricky to figure out, to be honest. | **Demon Damian:** I'm not exactly recreating the Polar Stars; I'm recreating their relationships, which will make Sōma constantly flashback to the good times of Tōtsuki and not just the challenging times. There will be a couple of other pairings, though romance is by no means the main part of this story. | **raydark182:** Sōma is acting very out of character in certain parts of this story, to be frank. He's not quite as strict as Shinomiya, at least. | **Cat McHall:** There will be no student-alumni shokugeki in this story. | **Kairomaru:** The rest of the training camp is going to be intense xD Sōma is a bachelor, but he did find someone :3 | **a certain reading fan:** Nice penname :P And thanks! | **The Stray Blackcat:** Your Shokugeki fic was one of the ones I read to get an idea of how I wanted to take Sōma's character! :D And I am writing as fast as the plot bunnies are making it happen~ | **Elkath:** Sōma is a bit different here, yes. And I didn't forget Hisako at all! The reason why Erina didn't mention her is part of her personality. You'll see what I mean. | **NefCanuck:** I will say that Sōma is now in his twenties and, having gone through a lot by taking over Restaurant Yukihira, is much more mature/strict about the people he lets through the kitchen. Same reason why he didn't say anything at the opening ceremony when Shinomiya and Akira expelled three students for scents. And Erina is more than a shinigami when it comes to her lessons, believe me xD

* * *

Sōma walked out of the elevator to Ikumi, Inui, Shinomiya, and Takumi comparing how students had done in their tasks. His feet whispered on the plush carpeted ground as Inui recalled all of the grilled fish she had to eat with a groan, mentioning that if just _one_ had even attempted poultry she probably would have passed them (Takumi smirked at this).

Dōjima had been quite kind to the alumni when he set up the rooms they were staying in. The floor that they stayed on was more of an elongated penthouse, with a common space the size of a fairly small ballroom where the elevators were that was furnished like a lobby and a game room combined. The hallway was barely a hallway at all; it was more like an extension of the fancy room that it branched from, with the doors to the rooms practically blending into the walls. It even took a special key to access the floor, and all of their rooms were of course furnished with large kitchens that they could experiment in. That also led to a lot of people tending to stay in either their kitchen or the common room. And right now, it seemed as though most of the people were in the common room.

"Hey, Yukihira! I heard you sent more than fifty students home today!" Erina heard Ikumi shout over to him from her seat. "How'd you do that? You're too nice to pull that one on us!"

"I didn't like their food, they messed up really badly, and I sent them home," Sōma said with a shrug.

"How did they mess up that badly?" Ikumi's question overshadowed Shinomiya's muttered "Looks like the nice guy attitude is gone now, good riddance."

"Some of them deserved it," Sōma said, walking up to her with his hands in his pockets. The white flaps of his headband poked out from underneath his sleeve as he scratched the back of his head casually. "Two kids from the beginning admitted that they didn't want to cook, which is death in the kitchen, so I fired them. Four kids tried to use the rotten potatoes they were left with because they were too slow to get the salvageable ones and didn't know what else to use, which result in immediate expulsion. Another ten used cumin, of all spices. Since when was cumin in Japanese-style cooking, especially _common_ Japanese-style cooking? Elevation is great and all, but overloading a food with a spice isn't elevation, it's murdering the palate. Maybe seven more burned their oil before frying, making the entire dish taste bitter. Five made sauces too thick to eat, another six made them too runny. Eight others messed up portions. And ten didn't make it in time with a final product, not counting everyone who had to try again. They took two hours to try and mash up edible potatoes and other things and toss it into a pot of oil. Out of all of those students, only three tried to use a different vegetable to replace potatoes."

Ikumi let out a long whistle. "You're serious, Sōma-kun?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked casually, slouching onto a chair. During his miniature rant, other alumni had wandered into the room, either emerging from their rooms or out of the elevators. Some of them looked over curiously while others chose to sit down to listen to the conversation.

"That's fifty-two students total eliminated from your class," Takumi said disbelievingly. "Since when did you become so vicious?"

"Since the esteemed students of Tōtsuki didn't know what to do with rotten potatoes, that's when," Sōma said with a snort.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that your taste is starting to develop into something like mine," Shinomiya commented in passing, smirking slightly.

"You wish, senpai," Sōma scoffed. "I just know what rotten potatoes smell and taste like. How's Megumi doing, by the way?"

"Tadokoro-chan?" Shinomiya said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You'd be surprised how many recettes she's added to my menu. She's got some good ideas."

"Told you you should have scouted her eight years ago," Mizuhara said quietly. "You spent two years fielding her requests to work with you, and after that you finally got those three stars you wanted."

"No one asked you for your opinion, Mizuhara," Shinomiya snapped. "I just said that she had good ideas, not that she's ruling my kitchen now."

"But senpai, you nearly expelled her for not following your recette," Sōma pointed out with a sly grin.

Shinomiya glared at him. "There's a reason why I let her work with me and not you, Yukihira-kun."

"I never asked if I could, first of all," Sōma pointed out. "Second of all, I've already worked with you. Just not for money."

"Alright boys, you're both very pretty, no need to argue over anything," Inui said, holding her hands out in a placating manner. Sōma held his hands out as if in surrender, but Shinomiya rounded on her and began pulling at her cheeks.

"Shut that mouth, Hinako, or I'll shut it for you," he growled at her. She groaned a response, which cut off sharply when he chopped her swiftly on the head.

"Why do you still do this to me, senpai?" Inui practically wailed, sniffing as she rubbed at the sore spot on her head.

"Why do you still act like a child, Hinako?" Shinomiya shot back in response.

Sōma looked on with a mild amusement, but also a slight sadness. The camaraderie hit just a little too close for him to be able to stand.

"You're trying to get away from the topic." Sōma blinked when the voice reentered his thoughts.

"What topic?" he asked Takumi, who was impatiently staring at him. When Sōma turned back around, he noted the slight envy in his eyes, since Sōma was able to talk to the older alumni much more easily than Takumi ever could.

"The fact that you expelled _more than fifty students!_ You, Yukihira!" (he pointed at Sōma, who blinked with a blank expression on his face) "You, the one who was all about saving every one of his friends! You, who challenged an alumnus to a shokugeki when we were first-years all because a friend was expelled!"

"To be fair, Shinomiya-senpai expelled her on a bullshit reason," Sōma said, holding him his finger in a 'one sec' manner. Shinomiya turned around menacingly and held up his hand in the same way that he had before chopping Inui on the head. Sōma quickly got the message and held his forearms up in an X across his chest, trying to earn his forgiveness.

Takumi snapped in front of Sōma's face to get his attention back (again). Sōma chose to bend his back and look at Takumi backwards rather than turn around. Takumi rolled his eyes at his red-haired colleague's antics. "Explain, for God's sake, Yukihira."

"Not much to explain, Takumi," Sōma said, scratching the side of his face. "They messed up. They got fired. Just another day at work."

Just then, Mizuhara, who had been sitting on a chair in her usual crouching style, glanced up. "You've changed, Yukihira-kun, and don't you try to deny it," she murmured, impaling his rather lackadaisical glance with a sharp stare. "You've grown up. You're not that happy-go-lucky kid that I remember. You've matured. Not sure how you'd feel about that."

Sōma grimaced at her statement. She had only met him in his own training camp and then now. If Mizuhara had noted such a definite change, then what did that mean for him?

"Anyhow, I'm going to expel more students than you. I couldn't beat you before, I won't let you beat me again!" Takumi declared.

Utter silence draped the room.

"Takumi, I don't think you've ever said anything more ridiculous in your life," Ikumi chirped. "You were just telling him off for expelling more than fifty kids."

"I won't let you beat me, Yukihira!" Takumi said, pointing at Sōma as he tried to retreat to his room. It would have been a very impressive exit had he not nearly walked into the wall and had to regain his footing when he tripped over the thick carpet.

"He's gotten more ridiculous since I recruited him and his brother," Mizuhara muttered, rubbing her chin with a single finger thoughtfully.

"He's always been like that," Ikumi groaned. "Made our lives hell back in school. Always challenging Sōma-kun over whatever he felt like."

"And Sōma-kun accepted every challenge," Erina said as she walked out of the elevator with Satoshi right behind her.

"How do you always know what we're talking about?" Sōma asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Erina snorted. "I can hear, you know. I'm not just a tongue with arms and legs."

"That's not what the rumors say about you," Ikumi pointed out.

"Forget the rumors," Erina said airily. "I need to contact Hisako about how the restaurant's been going."

"Oh, that's right," Sōma said with a thought. "You've got plans to open that big restaurant you've been rambling about since second year."

"I have _not_ been rambling, Yukihira Sōma-kun!" Erina growled, clenching the phone in her hand as she stomped away. "Kindly remember that!"

"I will!" Sōma shouted after her.

Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "He's clueless, isn't he?" the pink-haired chef said marginally quieter to Mizuhara. The slate-haired chef shrugged noncommittally before leaping off of her chair.

"I've got an idea on an herb blend for one of my sauces. Excuse me," she said to no one in particular before leaving.

"Let us try some later if it works out!" Shinomiya called after her.

"Oho~? You want to taste Fuyumi-senpai's cooking now, Kojirō-senpai?" Inui asked, smirking slightly. The oddly devious grin didn't seem to fit on her face or with her personality. Shinomiya only had to raise his hand threateningly again before Inui shrank away, hands on her head and tears preemptively in her eyes.

"Interesting dynamic between them, isn't it?" Satoshi said with his typical serene smile on his face, leaning his folded arms on the back of Sōma's chair.

"I-Isshiki-senpai, when did you change?!" Ikumi said with a splutter, her face turning bright red as she took in Satoshi's uncovered body. It didn't help that his back was to her.

"Hmm? I don't know what you're talking about, Mito-san," Satoshi said to her with a disarming smile.

"Nikumi, you're better off not asking him," Sōma said with a sigh. "He doesn't tell anyone how he does these things" (he gestured helplessly towards Satoshi's entire body) "and you get used to it after a while."

"Sōma, a naked man is standing right behind your chair," Ikumi deadpanned. "And don't call me Nikumi!"

"That's one way to put it," Satoshi mused, not looking bothered at all.

"It's his thing," Sōma said, waving his hand through the air. He suddenly brightened. "We should have a food comparison party! Like we used to in Polar Star!"

"What." Shinomiya's unimpressed thought echoed through the others' minds. All except for Satoshi, of course.

"Why, what a wonderful idea, Sōma-kun!" he said, sounding exultant. "Finally, we can celebrate our time as students again! Returning to the time when we shared with each other our living spaces and our cooking, reunited under the goal of continuing that bold tradition! Together, as friends, not just as colleagues! Ahh, to be able to come together again, just as we did in that building― no, that home of ours! Sōma-kun, you never let me down!" And with that, Satoshi ran out of the room, his apron flapping as he did so.

Shinomiya took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What kind of graduates did we let through, Hinako?"

"Uhh... good ones?" Inui offered, remembering the dish that Satoshi had made for her when he took her test, remembering the springtime taste he had brought forth to her palate. "He knows what he's doing."

At that moment, Erina reappeared from the halls. "Someone needs to tell Hayama-san to stop grinding spices in his room or he'll lose half of his supply as it floats away," she commented.

"Isshiki-senpai ran that way, right?" Ikumi asked, still somewhat shocked at Satoshi's sudden burst of excitement.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah."

"Did he look a bit, er, odd to you?" Ikumi asked delicately.

"He seemed a little out of breath, maybe," Erina said, sounding distracted. "He said something about a food party later, I think."

"You chatted with him?" Ikumi asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, he stopped for a while to entice me to join and then went off on his way," the blonde girl said, giving Ikumi a confused glance. "Why?"

"N-nothing," Ikumi said, settling back in her chair and looking a tad disturbed.

Erina blinked before setting her sights on Sōma. "Explain."

"Not much to explain, really," Sōma said. "We were discussing Isshiki-senpai's interesting dressing habits."

"Oh, the fundoshi? You know he brought that to Elite Ten meetings, right?" The latter part of her statement was directed towards Ikumi.

"You're serious?!" She examined their faces: Erina's was completely blank, Sōma's adorned with his typical smirk. "You're serious."

"He did it when we were getting nothing done, to be honest," Sōma said. "He's a serious person, believe it or not."

Ikumi blinked. She had absolutely no response to that. Neither did anyone in the room, it seemed, because before long, a comfortable silence swept over them all.

That is, until Akira stumbled out of his room, coughing. A cloud of vibrantly red dust followed him out, trailing on his clothes and covering his hair, leaving it looking pale pink.

"Hayama-san?" Sōma asked, not sure of what he was seeing.

"Damn cayenne," Akira growled. He blinked hard before waving his hand in front of his eyes, trying to clear the dust away. "Exploded everywhere."

Thus began the mass exodus to help Akira clean up the rest of his spices and air out his room.

* * *

 **Fun fact: I got bored and came up with the 92nd Generation's chef nicknames, since I felt that all of the chefs needed one. I'll post them at the end of this note, since I can't think of any reason to use them in this fic right now.**

 **Anyhow, I'm probably going to slow down on writing this to get back to my other story obligations and other random ideas that drift through my head. I've been getting the idea to do a Battle Lovers (Cute High Earth Defense Club or something) fic as practice for writing, and I might go through with it, but for now, here ya go.**

 **YUKIHIRA SŌMA: Son of the Devil**

 **NAKIRI ERINA: God's Tongue**

 **HAYAMA AKIRA: The Aromatherapist**

 **NAKIRI ALICE: The Scientist**

 **TADOKORO MEGUMI: Japan's Demeter**

 **ALDINI TAKUMI: Prince of the Moon**

 **IBUSAKI SHUN: The Enraenra**

 **MITO IKUMI: The Butcher (temporary)**

 **KUROKIBA RYŌ: The Berserker (temporary)**

 **Most of them are pretty self-explanatory. Demeter is the Greek goddess of the harvest and the Enraenra is a Japanese mythological creature composed of smoke, said to be seen by the pure of heart (according to Wikipedia). Takumi's nickname comes from his favored use of the mezzaluna.**

 **-Shriayle**


	4. DAY 1: NENE'S TASK

**...guys. This hasn't even been uploaded for a a little more than two weeks, and already more than 40 favorites and 70 follows? You're just encouraging me to ignore my other stories and write this one, aren't you? :P Well, good job, because I'm more obsessed with the idea of anime fics now more than ever.**

 **I've also been bouncing around the idea to write a prequel to this. I plan to write a bit more past the training camp, but would you want to see what my interpretation of the 92nd Generation's third year went? Especially since I highly doubt that the year started with only nine people :3c**

 **REPLIES:**

 **lindsjune:** I actually think I messed up that math on counting and stuff, but I'm not going to update it quite yet because I'm lazy and also I'm thinking that the others really don't care besides the fact that Soma's being a bit uncharacteristic. Shinomiya is a proud senpai, deep in the warm part of his cold, cold heart xD Aaaand Isshiki is my favorite character because of his uniqueness and his random nudity. The most amusing anime character I've ever seen lel~ Takumi hasn't changed, and Megumi is slowly setting Shinomiya straight, much to the rest of the chefs' amusement. | **Cat McHall:** Shinomiya was never subject to someone who dresses only in a fundoshi/apron for no real reason. Megumi is a persistent little girl when she wants to be, and she knew that developing her vegetable skills would help her style develop. | **raydark182:** Soma is virtually the same person. Just less easy on others :P | **cj. herlamat:** I really didn't want to reference his father too much with his name. I know that seems weird after what I've decided to call him, but there are reasons besides Joichiro that he's called Son of the Devil. Reasons I might touch on in this story later. | **Meganlei:** The tenth member was a Second Year at the time that the nine graduated. I just didn't write on them because I didn't feel like making up an Original Character just for background. | **Anonymous:** He's not called Son of the Devil just for being his dad's son :P And according to my Google searches, a Rakshasha is a name for an Asura, so it seems counterintuitive to compare him to his father in the end, no offense ^^" | **natsuandlucy4ever:** Soma's different because I couldn't quite pin down his personality to match the storyline, unfortunately. Before I wrote this, I thought, "What if Erina, Soma, Takumi, and some others came back for the Training Camp?" (personally, it was my favorite arc thus far) and I looked for fics but I didn't find any so I went "THIS ISN'T RIGHT" and then decided to write it. And the nicknames were quite fun to write :D | **2black2butterfly:** Ahhhh thank you! Interactions are quite fun to imagine up, especially rather random ones like Satoshi and Ikumi/Takumi. And I never said there was going to be no shipping ;) The fic's just not overall romance, haha. Erina has long since gotten used to Soma's actions, unfortunately for her blood pressure. They have picked up traits from each other. How, I refuse to answer. | **Demon Damian:** Haha, funny story about that; I was thinking of either Hestia or Demeter for Megumi, but the problem with Hestia is that there's another anime made to parody the Magical Girl stereotype and one of the characters goes by "Vesta", which is Hestia's Roman name. Soooo Hestia's name is kind of ruined in my mind when it comes to anime :P Also Megumi has changed a bit, though she's still one of the nicest people to graduate from Totsuki. Imagine Demeter with Persephone/grieving after losing her. That's kind of what Megumi symbolizes to me. Also the entire pseudo-Shokugeki with all of the alumni imagining her as various harvest yokai made the idea of her being Demeter more attractive to me. Erina's test is one of the last few, and I ALSO LOVE SOMAxERINA SO YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

* * *

Students milled about in the spotless kitchen, murmuring to each other. They muttered horror stories about Soma's task sending dozens of their compatriots home on the first day alone, just because they couldn't cook without potatoes. Those who hadn't had the task yet snorted and preened themselves on how well they would pass, imagining grandiose solutions that included things from flour to apples, none of which would probably work in the situation. Those who had survived rolled their eyes at their naive peers, thinking to themselves that they had no idea what to expect while already scaring themselves imagining what their next task would be. Some of them glanced down nervously at the strip of cloth that was neatly folded and placed on each workstation, trying to come up with possible scenarios to use it in.

The kitchen was actually devoid of any chef this time, but it was because the students were early rather than the chef-teacher being late. After the first two 'classes' they had to attend, and seeing so many of their peers already taken down by the rigid standards that these alumni placed on them, the students didn't dare be late to a class, lest the alumni in charge decide that that was reason enough to expel them. The students continued to mill about until they stopped cold and rushed back to their places as footsteps sounded down the hallway.

The door swung open gently and a green-haired girl, perhaps somewhere between five or six feet but not really leaning towards either, walked in, a clipboard under her hand. The students exchanged baffled looks when they noticed that she was wearing a schoolgirl's uniform beneath her chef's jacket. Round glasses adorned her face, bringing attention from her rather average appearance and odd splattering of freckles to the intelligent, icy pink eyes that shone from beneath her bangs. The girl glanced around at the students before checking something off from her clipboard, clearing her throat slightly, and moving to stand behind the chef's table.

"Good afternoon. I am Kinokuni Nene. You are to refer to me as Chef Kinokuni. I will keep this as brief as I can: I don't care about what your experience in the kitchen or in the school was before these next ninety minutes. What will prove if I think you are a good chef or not will be this hour and a half I have to evaluate you. Is this clear?" Her voice was sharp and unyielding, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she took in the barely noticeable ways that students had made their uniforms casual, whether it be by keeping their sleeves unfolded or not tying their apron completely.

"What happens if you cut yourself in the kitchen?" she asked. The students blinked in confusion at the apparent non sequitur before glancing at one another nervously. After a couple minutes, during which Nene didn't move a single muscle as she made eye contact with some students only for them to look away, finally, one boy raised his hand nervously. Nene's eyes darted over to his form, and his expression betrayed his nervousness.

"Yes, Yamaguchi Kaede-kun?" Nene snapped out. The orange-haired boy jumped slightly, wondering for a brief second why she knew his name before realizing that it was probably written on her clipboard.

"If you cut yourself and no other chef is available to match your caliber, the best idea is to bind the wound, ensure that no blood can enter a customer's dish by putting a glove on, and continue cooking."

Nene nodded. "Indeed, if you had a small finger cut. But what if _this_ happens?"

In front of the first years' eyes, Nene picked up a small knife and slashed a neat yet deep line across her palm. The line pulsated for a second before blood began to ooze out slowly. Nene noticed that some of the students looked positively green, which made her let out a silent puff of gust from amusement. She let the students watch the blood drip onto the table before taking a bandage out of her pocket and deftly bound it tightly, ceasing blood flow immediately.

"This would be an issue, wouldn't it?" Nene said, allowing the faintest of smiles to appear on her face as soon as the wound was tended to. She flicked a thin green braid behind her shoulder mindlessly. "This is the issue you will deal with right now. There is a bandage on each station. You are to tie it as tightly as possible, tight enough to staunch blood flow, and cook a dish. Whatever dish you want to. It must be restaurant quality."

There was a brief pause while students scrambled to tie the strips of cloth, most still numb from the blatant wound that Nene had given herself, crippling her own cooking ability to demonstrate the danger that they skirted daily by chopping with knives and possibly breaking glassware. Nene glanced around to make sure that all of the students had bound their hands.

"Time starts now. One hour and thirty minutes," Nene said, clapping loudly. The loud noise, such a contrast from her deliberate, toned down words created a frenzy of movement as students struggled to pick up ingredients and hold them with crippled hands.

Nene watched their frenetic movements with a slightly more apparent smirk on her face. She could remember the conversation with the other alumni about their challenges, and their response to hers.

Disbelief. Blank looks. An uncertainty about the very way they chose to try and break the subject to her: slowly, as if she didn't understand what she was saying. Their reactions were practically the same as the students' were. They didn't understand why she wanted to test the students with such a simple task; why did they have to teach them how to deal with a knife wound? At the same time, Nene came from a family of gourmet restaurateurs. The Kinokuni name was too well-known for anyone to doubt her ideas, and they let it happen. She was glad that there was no direct objection, apart from the typical drivel from Kuga Terunori.

After all, it wouldn't do to let the entire world know that her grandfather, head chef of Librarie Gourmet, had recently nearly cut the pointer finger of his dominant hand off in an errant swipe of a knife after five decades of cooking expertise.

 _"The students need to know how to fail, how to accept failure, and move on to maintain their typical standard of cooking. Without that knowledge, they will never succeed."_ The words she had said to persuade the others resonated in her mind as she watched students give themselves real knife cuts (none as deep as the one she inflicted on herself) in their attempts to chop vegetables and meats with their bandaged hands. She noticed a few who didn't seem troubled at all: the orange-haired boy from earlier, another girl with jay blue hair and tanned skin near the back, another student whose back was to her with vibrant golden hair tied in a ponytail. They were easily compensating, whether from quick adaptation like the orange-haired boy seemed to demonstrate, or from having already practiced such techniques, such as the girl seemed to show.

Nene's facade didn't crack as she stared out. For the entire period of time, she stood behind her table, her posture stiff and firm, her eyes trained ahead. She always looked ahead. That is how a Totsuki First Seat thought. Always fixated on the future, on the next dish, on the next improvement.

Soon, the first student brought up his dish. She stared down at it disdainfully; the presentation wasn't perfect, the scents that arose from the porcelain betraying something gone wrong. The boy began to fidget as she stared and evaluated. It was an amalgamation of failures in her eyes, really. Nevertheless, she picked up her fork and carefully collected a portion for herself, closing her eyes as she focused on the tastes in her mouth.

"The oil was burnt slightly, probably because of an inability to hold the pan as firmly as you want to," she muttered under her breath. "Too little salt, too much butter. Flour as a thickener, but still just a little more would have been more effective. And the final garnish was just a bit too heavy-handed."

The boy fidgeted more.

"You pass," Nene decided. "A customer would notice no difference."

He visibly relaxed.

"Please stand at the far wall of the room. You may remove your bandage now."

The boy nodded silently, walking away as he struggled to pull the long white cloth off of his hand now. The other students seemed to notice that she wasn't critiquing anywhere near as hard as the other chefs and cooked on, bolstered and inspired. Nene shook her head to herself. If she were truly searching for employees for her kitchen, the boy would have been fired the second she saw his dish. Shaky. Imperfect. Only the perfect for La Librarie Gourmet.

Dishes that were more than subpar, with egg shell littered throughout the entire plate or grains of salt not quite dissolved, were literally thrown away. Nene didn't care about the mess that was piling up around her table; after all, she wasn't the one that was going to clean up the foodstuffs on the ground or the broken porcelain. She would push plates off of the table and send the students away.

"Do you honestly think you can even squeak by with this," she asked the first student, who stammered out a "N-no, Chef Kinokuni," before whimpering.

She pointed towards the door. "Fired. Out."

"D-don't I get a second chance?" the girl had whispered, tears already forming in her eyes.

"When in a restaurant, you have one shot to convince the patrons to return again. Each time is a new slate, with only piling expectations. The food must capture their senses. It doesn't matter what happens behind the scenes as long as they are pleased. The customers don't care if you've broken a finger as long as they are pleased. This couldn't please a mouse." She flicked the plate to the ground, ignoring the loud crash of china and the splattering of rice. "Out."

Others watched this scene before shrinking away, all prior bravado leaving them. They struggled halfheartedly against the bandage that bound their hand and made it impossible to grip. Students trailed up to her, offering their dish to her, and she passed some and threw out others.

 _Perhaps I'll pass Yukihira-kun up sometime with the expel count,_ Nene allowed herself to think. She continued to stand and stare, watching the next person come up to the table.

The orange-haired student. He locked eyes with her (his eyes were a rather peculiar shade of silver, practically white), which no other student had even attempted, and then bowed to her respectfully. "Chef Kinokuni, this is the dish I present to you."

He laid down a bowl with a surprisingly simple serving for such intense introduction. His respect for her, for his food, and for her opinion was more than visible in every one of his movements. She had seen this boy around before: a jokester, constantly pushing his friends' buttons. Now, he had locked down and seen what it was he had to do, and had delivered on that, abandoning the joking manner for a much more serious attitude. Nene stopped observing the student and began observing his plate.

It wasn't a masterpiece or a work of art, but it was simple enough and rather impressive, considering that he hadn't the use of one hand. The presentation was spotless as well: it showed the dish for what it was.

"And what is in this udon that will make me pass you?" Nene asked, looking at the thick noodles, carefully cut crab, and seaweed with a seed of interest. She picked up a spoon to taste a bit of the broth.

Nene felt herself be swept away out to sea, a sea filled with the creamy brown broth of the boy's dish. The sharp, astringent taste of the soup was mellowed only by the noodles, which seemed to caress her as she floated along on the tides. Crabs gently squeezed her toes and fingers and plants brushed her back almost nonchalantly, their flavor only just present enough to not want for anymore. Nene felt the illusion fade and nodded in approval before looking at the boy for an explanation.

"I made the soup stock out of miso and ginger," the boy, Yamaguchi, explained. "Each was stewed in as long as possible before the ginger turned it bitter. Mushrooms were added for extra umami and the noodles were prepared by someone from the kitchen. I saw them in the back."

"And how did you get so precise a presentation?" she requested.

Yamaguchi gave her a cheeky grin and said, "I took a pair of Mun-san's chopsticks today as a joke but forgot to give them back to her. They were clean and everything, so I sanitized them and used them to arrange the components of the udon. There aren't chopsticks provided here, from what I've seen. Then I finished my arrangement by using lemongrass instead of chopsticks. It provides a citrus tone to the entire dish to add a tiny drop of acidity to the soup."

Nene nodded. "Satisfactory, to say the least. You passed."

The boy's white eyes lit up and he bowed again, much more swiftly this time. "Thank you, Chef Kinokuni!" He darted off to the far side of the room, where he began to chat vividly with one of the other students that had passed (the golden haired student, who ended up being a girl with piercing green eyes that had offered a fried rice dish).

The next student that came up was the blue-haired girl, who had a rather open expression about her. "Thank you for waiting, here is my dish," she chirped, sliding a plate over to Nene.

Nene studied her. She hadn't stood out to the chef before. She was just another student before today. Now, she was carefully unwinding the bandage from her right hand―

Wait.

"Which hand is your dominant hand?" Nene asked.

"Hmm? I'm right-handed," the girl responded, confused.

"Then why did you tie it around your right hand? I would assume that when cooking, your nondominant hand is more likely to get cut so seriously that you need to bind it."

"Ah, yeah, that would be more intuitive, I guess," the girl said with a stammer. "I-I just didn't want to make it too easy on myself."

"Too easy?" Nene repeated, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs.

"I mean..." the girl held out her hands. Nene felt herself almost flinch in sympathy at what she saw.

A mutilation. A scar. A scar that stretched from forearm all the way to her fingertips, covering her left hand. One that could only have happened long ago, though it was still very visible. The girl seemed to try and clench her hands self-consciously, but the digits of her left hand didn't respond quite as well, barely closing into a fist before hiding behind her right hand.

"When I was eight," the girl said, "I opened the oven door to grab our dinner and set it on the table. The oven mitt had oil all over it. It was a cotton mitt. It caught on fire immediately, and my father had to rush over, throw water over me and our food, and call the paramedics. Truth be told, I was told that I am lucky to still be able to use this hand. To bind an infirmity already would be a shame against the others, no?"

Nene said nothing. She merely pointed towards the back, the girl's words rolling in her brain. She hadn't even tasted the food, but she knew that the girl would pass nonetheless.

 _I will be keeping an eye on you, Kannan Rajya,_ Nene thought, watching the dark-skinned girl stride confidently to her place in the back. At the end of the period, Nene cut off all of the students and refused to taste their dishes. "You should have finished it by now and brought it up to me. The fact that you didn't means to would force a patron to wait for longer than they should. You aren't welcome here."

Those students in the back let out a sigh of relief when she silently gestured for them to leave with no preamble. Most of them spared a final glance backwards at the mess of plates and food that had amassed as students were expelled, but they quickly filed out to prepare their dinners and go to bed.

The rest of the students began to cry or moan about their bad luck, but Nene hadn't even fired thirty students, and the majority had passed her inspection.

 _I didn't beat Yukihira-kun, then. Too bad,_ Nene mused before walking out of the room, her posture perfect, her expression showing no emotion, as befit the Frozen Princess.

* * *

 **Nene is a rather interesting character to write for, but truth be told, I only chose her because of her and Terunori Kuga's rather unique "relationship" :P Also all of the backstory here was imagined by me, so as soon as we learn more about her, this chapter may be revised, though Nene's challenge won't be. I really hope that Nene isn't too OOC, but I only imagine her as a cold, terse woman with an eye for perfection and a disgust for all things imperfect.**

 **As always, thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments, please review and let me know :D**

 **~Shriayle**


	5. DAY 1: PRE-PARTY

**I had to reread the Autumn Leaf Viewing and Moon Festival arcs at least five times each to write this chapter alone. I have basically memorized the entirety of the Autumn Leaf chapters now n_n Anyhow, you didn't come here to read about my griping! You came here to read about Sōma post-graduation! So here ya go :D**

 **REPLIES:**

 **raydark182:** Nene's indifference is legendary, even among the alumni. Especially among the alumni. And Erina's challenge will not show up until near the very end of this story, sorry! | **lindsjune:** I really like the 91st Generation, to be honest! The characters are all so much more different from the ones from 92nd. And I'm still wavering on the prequel, but hopefully it will pan out. | **NefCanuck:** My cooking isn't much better xD I prefer baking than anything. I'm assuming that clumsy middle school students that struggle with knives understand how to work around cuts, though not to a restaurant's quality level, so that's what that's for. | **Demon Damian:** There will always be more :P Nene's challenge is the only one involving blood, just to let you know. And children? They're only in their twenties! xD | **Envoy of the White Moon:** Heeeey, I've read your story before :D Quite liked it, I did. I've been more focused with establishing the setting in these past few chapters; I swear that there will be more exciting things to come soon. And I write for myself, above all, so I prefer to embrace criticism and grow as a writer whenever possible! Thanks for reading thus far, even if it isn't quite to your taste :) | **2black2butterfly:** They aren't competing, exactly, but it's hard not to after surviving the Academy's competition, I would assume.

* * *

Nene exited the elevator to see Satoshi rearranging the entire lobby, shoving sofas and tables around while also wearing only an apron, as was usual. Traces of whistling could be heard from the nearly nude man. She blinked twice before walking over to him, standing right in front of him.

Satoshi noticed first the prim and proper shoes that the woman wore before glancing up and seeing her disdainful expression and thin green braids. "Oh, hey, Nene-chan," he said casually, a dazzling smile on his face. "It's always good to get some physical exercise in, no matter where you go, wouldn't you say?"

"I wouldn't know, Isshiki-san," Nene said with a tiny sniff. There was a rather _interesting_ scent on the air that faintly reminded her of maggots. "Are you cooking something?"

Satoshi sniffed the air himself, his forehead creasing slightly as he noted the same smell. "Well, I'm not cooking anything right now," he said, "but maybe in a few minutes. I'll start cooking as soon as this arranging is finished."

"Arranging? Cooking?"

The wide smile returned, making Nene want to grimace at his cheerfulness. "Why, we're having a cooking party! Just like in high school!"

"...I don't know what you did at Polar Star, but I don't remember cooking parties being an important part of my high school experience," Nene said, her face still set in her blank mask.

"Ahh, we inducted every new student with a wondrous party at Polar Star," Satoshi said with a dreamy expression as he pushed a table to the middle of the now much emptier room. He looked around at his handiwork with a vague air of satisfaction. "Everyone stayed up all night, cooking, laughing! Fumio-san even cooked us some dishes sometimes, just so we could continue carousing." He let out a breathy sigh. "Ah, to return to those days."

"I'm sure it was amazing," Nene said, cutting off what she knew would be an intense reminiscing from her former classmate. She began to unwind the cloth from her hands, breathing a silent sigh of relief when she saw that the cut she had made earlier was already half-healed and that there wasn't even scabbing. There was only a splattering of blood on the cloth in her hands now, which she didn't mind.

"Well, Sōma-kun suggested this idea," Satoshi said, sitting down on the table and ignoring the bandage she just took off. "And I can't help but wholeheartedly agree. All of us alumni must come together to make this a success! Why don't you join in the festivities?"

"Festivities?!" A person came rolling down the hallway at a breakneck speed that even Sōma wouldn't attempt. And yes, he was rolling. On a chair. From his room.

The chair (and the person in it) stopped right in front of Satoshi and Nene as they sat and stood respectively at the table. The young man stood up dramatically and waltzed up to them, his eyes sparkling.

"Why didn't anyone, like, tell me there was going to be a paaaaaaaarty?" he whined, stretching the 'A' in 'party' as long as he could.

"Because we decided to have it this morning, after Inui-senpai and her colleagues came back from their task," Satoshi said, ignoring the newcomer's odd prior actions (to be fair, it would be bad for him to call it odd, seeing as he was the one wandering around a deluxe hotel wearing nothing but a pink apron with a bear on it).

"Huh? But I was here, wasn't I?" the young man pondered, lying down on the table next to Satoshi.

"Kuga-kun, if you were, I hope you didn't drive everyone crazy," Nene muttered, folding the cloth up in her hands.

The man shoved his bangs out of his eyes while he blinked up at her. "C'mon Nene-neesan, it's no big deal! Why are you acting like you've got a stick up your ass?" He sat up on the table, a sneaky grin on his face. "Are you on your peeeeeeeeriod? Is that, like, what that cloth's for?"

Nene glanced down at the bandage with an air of disdain, realizing that a bit of the bloody section was still visible. "Die, Teru-chibi," she said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

As could be predicted, Terunori's eyes burned with a dangerous light and his face contorted into a visage of rage. "WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!" he roared at her, shoving his face towards hers.

Satoshi, as always, shoved himself between them to stop a physical fight from breaking out. "Now, now, Terunori-san," he said with his typical disarming smile. "There's no need for that kind of violence! The party is for celebrating friendships cultivated from high school, a friendship that we all shared once!" He began to actually sparkle again, much to Terunori and Nene's shared disgust.

"There was never any seed of friendship between us, Isshiki-san," Nene said, walking off as she felt the beginnings of a migraine forming.

"Maaaaan, she's still, like, such a bitch," Terunori grumbled. "Seriously, like, no matters whatsoever."

Nene peeked her head from around the corner she had just walked around. "Pot calling the kettle black, short stuff."

"WHO ARE YOU TO CALL ME SHORT?! I'M TALLER THAN YOU NOW!" Terunori shouted, clenching his fist towards her but not moving one bit. He stared at the place where Nene had vacated and prepared to launch himself in that direction as soon as she poked her face back out again.

He saw a flicker of movement.

The beginnings of someone's face emerged―

And with a feral snarl, Terunori moved towards the movement, thinking only of Nene's sneering comments about his height. In the instant before he pounced on the person, he noticed golden eyes and red hair...

Wait a minute.

He blinked.

A very confused Sōma, holding a pot in his hands, stood staring at Terunori, his bemusement visible in his eyes.

A very awkward minute passed by, each person in the room measuring it with his heartbeats.

"Oh! Sōma-kun!" Satoshi sang out. "Have you finished your dish yet?"

"Haha, not quite," Sōma said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "It's still going in my room. Just had to air it out a bit."

"Air it out..?" Terunori asked, confused and still embarrassed from his nearly-attacking the other alumni.

"Uh, yeah, that's all you need to know about it!" Sōma said with a quick cheeky grin. He hurriedly set his pot down and rushed away. After a moment's pause, Sōma stuck his head out not unlike the way Nene had just done.

"Kuga-senpai, when did you get so tall?" he asked innocently before racing down the hallway back to his room.

"YUKIHIRA-CHIN!" Terunori screeched, emphasizing each syllable, before grabbing his chair and rolling down the hallway after him.

Satoshi just sighed in ignorant happiness (and it was more of his choice than anything to be ignorant) before picking Sōma's pot off of the ground and placing it on the table. As he made his way towards his room to start his own cooking, he paused as he sniffed the air again. He smelt the scent that Nene had identified as 'cooking' earlier, but he didn't particularly think it would settle well in his stomach. Just then, Terunori burst out of the room in front of Satoshi, gagging and holding his hand over his mouth, laughing hysterically.

"Oh. My. _God._ Yukihira-chin, that is the most disgustingly vile thing I've ever tasted!" he said with a loud chuckle. "How did you possibly think to come up with that?"

The red-haired chef peeked his head out of his room, lips curled into a smirk. "My pops and I did a lot of international travelling," he said with a snigger. Satoshi watched as Sōma slowly revealed his hand, which was holding chopsticks complete with a squid tentacle that had been rehydrated, drenched in two different kinds of pastes, and offered up to Terunori. "Want some more?"

"Eurgh, no! That's, like, gross!" Terunori said, his nose curled in revulsion even while his eyes watered from the laughter. "I can't believe that you would be the kind of person to think that up!"

Sōma pondered this for a second. "Nao-san helped me a tiny bit when it came to the smell factor, but she wanted to make it more palatable. I just told her I'm trying to beat my pops's ultimate recipe, so I had to make it as gross as possible."

"Sōma-kun, what've you got there?" Satoshi asked curiously. At the same time, Erina walked out of the room next to Sōma's, further down the hall. She stopped stock still when she noticed the group of men standing outside of an open door.

"Ah, Erina!" Sōma said, waving at her cheerfully as though he wasn't holding a bit of disgusting food on the end of his chopsticks. "We're neighbors again? Figures, eh?"

"S-Sōma-kun," she growled out before she coughed on the smell of rot. "What the hell have you got there?!"

"You even made Erina-hime swear!" Terunori gasped out. "Teach me your ways!"

Sōma scratched his head, holding his door open with his foot. "Ehh, spend an entire year with her forced to work as your partner in the one class you do well in?"

"Are you serious?" Erina snarled out. "We were in _Hospitality Class_ in _second year_."

"Oh, you remembered what and when it was? That's good. I can't remember those kinds of things. I just remembered that you stopped ragging on me so we could get a good score," Sōma said thoughtfully, not noticing the way Erina's face turned bright red.

"Hey, Erina-hime! You should try that!" Terunori piped up, pointing at Sōma's proffered chopsticks.

"Why would I force myself through that torture?" Erina asked with a sniff, a sniff she soon regretted the second she detected what it was on the end of his chopsticks. Sōma smirked and pointed the food from Terunori to Erina.

"C'mon, Kuga-senpai already tried it!" Sōma said with an easy grin. "He's not dead yet! You're not going to let him beat you, right?"

"Yet?!" Terunori demanded.

Erina's upper lip curled in utter repulsion as she stared at the unidentifiable food. She wondered vaguely how Akira would react to it. The dark-skinned man would probably nearly vomit from the stench alone.

"It's not poison, hime!" Terunori said impatiently.

"Erina-chan, I'm sure that Sōma-kun wouldn't be so rude as to force you to eat it," Satoshi said with a small grin. She could somehow tell that he knew what her reaction would be, and though he was gentle and encouraging, he wanted to see her eat it and fail.

Nakiri Erina was not raised to fail.

"Give me the chopsticks," she snarled at Sōma viciously. The red-haired boy smirked in triumph.

"Now, now, Erina! If I tried to do that, this _won_ derful treat would just fall to the ground! We can't let that happen, can we?" Sōma crowed. He seemed to accept that she wouldn't take the challenge.

She actually growled at him. Immediately afterwards, she blushed in shame for allowing herself to display such a childish action. Unfortunately...

"Oooooh, is Erina-hime blushing because her senpai noooooticed her? Oh, senpai, seeeenpaaaaiiii!" Terunori snarked from the wall, a devious smile stretching across his face as he pretended to swoon, his voice pitched even higher than Erina's was in an unrealistic squeak.

"I'M OLDER THAN HE IS, KUSO-GA!" Erina shrieked, stomping over towards Terunori, her face turning even brighter red. Terunori was by this time rolling around on the floor, howling from laughter.

"How do you know how old I am, Erina?" Sōma asked curiously, forever ignorant of her blushing.

"N-never mind that! Give me that," she said, gritting her teeth. "Let's get this over with."

"Ah, wait, one second, actually," Sōma said, disappearing into his room. Erina heard the sound of running water filling a cup before Sōma reappeared, now armed with a glass of water as well as the food he had before. "There, ready."

Erina grimaced before glancing backwards at a smirking Terunori who was milking the situation for all that it was worth and a slightly worried looking Satoshi. Probably because of her hesitation. She didn't want his pity. She swallowed slightly before turning back to Sōma and opening her mouth slightly, unwillingly. She was actually forcing her jaws open just enough for Sōma to―

Without letting her even consider backing out, Sōma deftly stuffed the food into her mouth.

An explosion of flavor filled her mouth. An explosion of flavor like rotten fruit and decomposition, all coupled with the squelching texture of the squid between her teeth. Erina struggled to chew the morsel and swallow it, shutting her eyes as tightly as she could, shoving her cursed God's Tongue away from her, trying to keep her gift at bay.

Of course it wouldn't work. Erina was transported into a world of squid tentacles pulling her underwater as only the rotting heads of salmon and the dark mush of some kind of fruit surrounded her. She tried to breathe, tried to kick back up to the surface, but the squid kept pulling her under and the fish even began to attack her, the mush thickening around her arms and legs as she forced herself to push it all away, even as it fought back against her. She knew that she was physically reacting to it by now, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting rid of the foul taste in her mouth, and she would rather burn in hell than spit it out. Her pride was on the line, not to mention that it would be even more of a waste of food than this veritable poison was.

Something was shoved into her hand. Her fingers recognized the wet coolness of the glass that Sōma had held and she immediately flung her had backwards and drank as much of the refreshing water as she could, washing the morsels away. Suddenly, Erina felt that she was dunked into the freezing water, which cleaned the indignant mush away, which made the salmon heads retreat, which forced the squid to stop moving long enough for her to break the surface and finally relax.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" Erina screeched the second she could. She was still confused as to how the taste had dissipated so thoroughly on her tongue, but she was more than thankful that it did.

"It was a reconstituted squid soaked in durian juice and preserves, topped off with stink head!" Sōma said, his cocky grin back and his hand positioned in that typical, infuriating, one-fingered "I know!" gesture that he was so accustomed to doing, no shame visible in his face or body posture. "I found a balance point between completely fresh squid and dried squid that kept just enough umami to make it taste like squid and just enough texture so that you can't eat it all in one shot! The stink heads are a delicacy from Alaskan natives, apparently, and they're more like rotten fish that's safe to eat than anything, so don't worry about that. The durian I learned how to prepare in Cambodia, and I preserved it into a jelly that I then topped the squid with. I combined all three of these together to try and create the most disgusting dish in the world!"

"Why on earth would that be your goal, Sōma-kun?" Satoshi asked, bemused. He had watched how violently Erina had acted; she had braced herself against the wall, whining from pain, practically curling up in a ball as her mouth worked furiously to swallow the squid in her mouth. For once, Terunori wasn't laughing maniacally or teasing her for her reaction. He looked at her with sympathy and mild worry. That is, until Sōma gave her the glass of water and helped her to sit down on the floor, an action the younger man refused to explain. Then, Terunori's smirk returned.

"Well, the first reason is that Pops and I have a competition as to who can make the grossest food to pass between your lips, though he's winning right now with sardines and strawberry jam," Sōma said with a cheeky smile, oblivious to the sudden expressions of revulsion on the other three's faces. "The second is that if you know how to make disgusting food, you have a better understanding of delicious food. That's what Nao-san knows better than the rest. She uses disgusting ingredients that no one would even want to smell, but she uses them to make food that tastes wonderful. That's the philosophy we should all live by."

"How did that taste go away so quickly?" Erina asked, still grimacing from the memory of the flavor.

"Oh, I added some lemon and mint to the water," Sōma said casually. "Citrus ups the production of saliva, which can wash away any final bits of bitterness, and mint leaves behind a cool freshness that both numbs the taste buds and replaces the taste. It's better than just water."

"Is that your contribution to the party, Sōma-kun?" Satoshi asked with some concern. "I remember your penchant for gross foods, but I wouldn't suggest making that."

"What, this? Nah, this is to give to Pops at a later date. And also to torture Akira with."

"I doubt that Hayama-san would be willing to let that get even close to his mouth," Erina said with a scoff, reveling still in the lack of taste.

"I don't need him to eat it," Sōma said. "I'll just have him smell it. That'll be more than enough to watch him suffer."

Erina shook her head with a sigh. "Boys."

"Anyhow, I prepared these for the party," Sōma said, reaching back with one arm before holding out a pan of something smelling delicious and gesturing towards a container of something else behind him. Erina felt herself lean forward subconsciously, drawn towards the scent. There were savory scents as well as sweet ones, though the fact that there seemed to be more savory implying that he had the sweet foods in the container. After her experience with Sōma's concoction, this scent felt like heaven's ambrosia.

"Harumaki?" Satoshi asked, looking at them with a bit of interest. "That's new."

"They're not just harumaki, but I'll let you figure out why later. There's taiyaki in the back, but I don't have any shaped presses so they're just circles," Sōma said sheepishly. "Felt like making it for the first time in a pretty long while. I even had to dig up some recipes from somewhere."

"You? The one with the photographic memory for recipes?" Erina asked disbelievingly.

Sōma nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, it's been a pretty long while," Sōma muttered.

Erina blinked at his sudden reticence, but she shrugged it off and readopted her arrogant attitude. "Well, I sure hope it pleases my palate more than that vile creation of yours disgusted it," she said with a flick of her hair. She began to walk away.

"Does that mean you're going to come, Erina?" Sōma asked after her.

Unbeknownst to the men, Erina lit up bright red and began to walk away much more quickly, feeling more embarrassed than ever. All the other three saw were her sped up footsteps.

Sōma blinked. "Was it something I said?"

* * *

 **Let it be known that I have never tried stink fish or durian, let alone together on a piece of squid. I can only imagine how disgusting it is.**

 **I had so much fun coming up with those insults :3c Quick list of some of them for those curious readers:**

 **Nene-neesan: In Japanese, 'neesan' means older sister. 'nee' also happens to sound like the 'ne' in Nene. Basically it's Terunori poking fun at how mature Nene always acts as well as how ridiculous she is because of that since he's able to poke fun at it.**

 **Teru-chibi: chibi is basically 'shorty'.**

 **Erina-hime: "Princess Erina". Refers to how Erina held herself at Tōtsuki.**

 **Kuso-ga: Kuga + 'kuso', which is the equivalent of 'shit' in Japanese from what I have found.**

 **I hope you're ready for all of the insults that I have planned. There are so many I want to use :) SO. MANY.**

 **Agh I hoped to get to the party but it was not meant to be. Eh, whatever! Introduction of new characters :D And I originally planned for this story to be maybe 20 chapters long, but it looks like I have to extend it a bit longer than that now. Whoo.**

 **~Shriayle**


	6. NIGHT 1: PARTY

**A large amount of you are telling me that durians are sweet and that their smell is the only off-putting thing about them. I don't know about you, but I would think that a sweet flavor would only make a gross dish more disgusting. And also that any kind of fruit and tastefully rotten fish put together would be the worst combination possible. There's a reason why Jōichirō is so, ahem, 'fond' of his sardines/strawberry jam, right?**

 **Also, quite a few people are suggesting alternate nicknames for 92nd Generation. There are a few who I really didn't like their names, so I'm searching for other names for them still, namely Ikumi and Ryo, but others, like Sōma's name, are probably not going to be changed. I do have a logical reason why Sōma is the Son of the Devil, and it's not because of his lineage. I am still contemplating other names for him, believe me.**

 **It will also never not amuse me that whoever wrote out the character tags for Shokugeki decided that Shinomiya's last name was Kojirō. Ah, ffnet. Never change.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **lindsjune:** Sōma will never stop until Jōichirō is on his knees, begging for mercy. Some things never change... and from what I can see, you could technically make a durian smoothie and then strain out the fruit chunks? Not sure, really. I've never had durian, as the one person I knew who tried it disliked it and therefore had none to offer me when I stole from her lunches at school :3 And I had a hard time finding future fics, and thus this story was written! | **FieryDarkWraith:** Weird textures are extremely off-putting to me xD Subtle ships are my specialty, especially since all of the romance I attempt to write always seems really awkward if it's not subtle at all ^^; | **Envoy of the White Moon:** Go ahead and smack 'em. I'm sure that they'll only complain for a few seconds before going back to ragging on each other. I'm not as certain if they're going to be shipped in this story, though. | **Red Eyed Black Cat:** All of these reviews are making me want some now. And I've never had it. | **Demon Damian:** ALL THE SUFFERING. Ah, not sure if you're going to read this, but I don't see any harm in telling you that the slate-haired La Regina will be next :D And by my math, I think that they're around twenty-three/twenty-four in this fic! I don't think that these master chefs are thinking of settling down anytime soon, though. It was unusual enough for Jōichirō with Sōma, from what I recall. Their child would be the child of the food gods. | **HoshinaYuki:** Thank you for all of that! I'm going to go back and redo all of that math later, as well as fix Hishoko's name :P I like 'Raijuu' for Ryo, but I have an idea of how I'm going to incorporate that idea later, so his name will probably be unchanged for now. Shipping deets and all. And while I did look up what Takumi's name would be in Italian, I don't think 'Luna Principe' or 'Principe Della Luna' sound much cooler than 'Prince of the Moon'. Maybe in Latin? I'll check that out later. and all of your ships are mine believe me. | **Agnew (Guest):** More Sōma x Erina, you say? Sure! | **NefCanuck:** I like to think that Sōma had to take some time to reason out why he liked to make gross food all of the time. | **Kazzaaaaaaa:** (that be a lot of a's) I'm having fun with this idea :3 And thanks! | **IceHime (Guest):** I was really scared until I kept reading that review o_o I had the same 'can't find the fic' problem as you! I'm happy that others shared my dilemma :3 Who knows? Maybe this'll become one of those cliché stories that every Shokugeki writer wants to make, after I'm done? xD (prolly not) and I'm writing as fast as the plot bunnies are giving me ideas! | **Ken18 (Guest):** Here ya go! It wasn't much :P | **Vahn N. Chrome:** They're at least seven years older than they are in the anime (I assume that the Generation number refers to the graduating year), so I would hope that being OOC is accepted? I try to keep them reminiscent of themselves, though :3 And HERE YOU GO! Thanks for reading!

* * *

It was ten o'clock at night. The students had been dismissed to their rooms to get some sleep and prepare for another day of expulsions and survival, leaving the alumni to their own devices.

Most of the alumni who had come back had locked themselves in their rooms to sleep as well, but around a dozen of the alumni were gathered in the 'lobby' area of their floor, if you will. The alumni had grouped together in their respective age-groups, though they still intermingled with ease. They were mostly among those who Sōma had sat with earlier in the day (he could barely believe that everything from the Camp had happened over the course of one day), though one alumnus in particular was missing.

"Where's Dojima-senpai?" Shinomiya asked everyone in general.

"Where do you think?" Mizuhara said, curled up on the ground, poking something on Sōma's little stove with an indifferent expression. "He's at the bath. As he always is."

"But we relegated the dinner challenge to tomorrow," Inui said, furrowing her brow as well. "He usually waits for all of the students to disappear before bathing."

"He owns the Resort, Hinako-san," Mizuhara responded while carefully tasting something in a bowl next to her. She seemed satisfied and began to drizzle the bowl's contents across the stove. "He knows the location of most of the baths. He also knows how to reserve a bath if you want one all to yourself. I'm fairly certain that he is making the most out of that knowledge right now."

"Oh."

"Mizuhara-sensei!" The slate-haired woman glanced up to see the blond man she had trained in the kitchens of Ristorante F. "May I ask what you are cooking right now?"

"No."

Takumi took a second to blink past his embarrassment. Meanwhile, Sōma started coughing suspiciously quickly in a manner that sounded like concealed laughter, though Akira, Ikumi, and Erina all had no idea what brought on the coughing fit. Takumi shot Sōma a panicked glare.

"Why don't you tell me, Aldini-kun? I believe I trained you and your brother well enough for you to understand Italian cuisine," Mizuhara continued.

"Oh. Oh!" Takumi leaned over more closely to the stove to examine the foods he had just glanced at. "Um, there're at least three kinds of cheeses, what looks like a bread component, herbs..."

Mizuhara nodded at him, gesturing for him to continue.

"The best I can guess is that it's a kind of recomposed crostini? With breadcrumbs reworked into the cheese as well as making up the dough underneath it?"

"Good work, Aldini-kun," Mizuhara said, satisfied. "It'll be just a few more seconds before this is done. You are dismissed."

Takumi lit up before hastily bowing to her and returning to the small group of younger alumni in the room. In his brief absence, Sōma had taken his containers of food out and were offering them to the others. Ikumi had already opened the taiyaki and was nibbling on one, commenting on the sweet flavor and rather obviously enjoying the pastry, while Erina was examining the contents of a harumaki as she separated each ingredient out onto a plate in front of her, muttering about the harmony of the flavors.

"C'mon, Hayama-san, it's not going to kill ya!" he was saying as he gestured for Akira to open the final container. Takumi had the strangest feeling that what was in the container could actually most likely end up being something that could kill Akira and felt preemptive sympathy towards the other chef.

Akira looked dubiously at the food. "I swear, if you somehow made this so that it splatters in my face again, Yukihira-kun..." his implied threat drifted off as his sentence prematurely ended.

 _Again?_ The errant thought ran through Erina's mind, in between _Why did I choose to come here?_ , _I didn't even bring anything_ , _Is that shrimp?_ and _He better not make me eat more of that disgusting food from earlier._ Said disgusting food was in the container, as she could plainly see, but Akira didn't know that, and she didn't feel an urge to warn him about the hell that was to come from opening the container.

Akira stared at Sōma, trying to see if he was being truly genuine, but he didn't see any deceit in the other's golden eyes. Deviousness, yes, but no deceit. He glanced around at the other containers of food that Sōma had brought, food that was clearly safe and extremely good, judging by Ikumi's reaction and Erina's lack of insults. The dark-skinned chef carefully opened the container in his hands.

"URGH!" he grunted loudly, slamming the lid back down with one hand while the other flew to his nose. "What the hell kind of black magic did you do to make this disgusting stench?"

"Betcha can't guess what's in it," Sōma teased, motioning for the box back.

Akira handed it over with no questions asked, relieved to be free of the horrible food. "All I got was rotten fish, squid, and some kind of fruit. If you make me open that again, it's going to be immediately dumped on your head and smashed into your hair."

"Eh, closer than I'd ever get to guessing correctly," Sōma responded with a shrug and ignoring the other chef's threat. He immediately launched into the same explanation of the food that Erina, Satoshi, and Terunori had heard earlier. Meanwhile, Ikumi and Takumi picked up a tiny whiff of the smell and gagged, wondering how Akira had managed to not physically react besides a loud complaint.

Erina, seemingly unperturbed by the smell, just shook her head and sighed to herself. She gave up on isolating every single flavor from the harumaki and just took a bite of the remnants in her hand. Her teeth met the unyielding flesh of shrimp and the easily chewable bits of pork, flavor exploding in her mouth in a way not unlike the food Sōma had previously made her try. The traditional ingredients, reminiscent of Sōma's small-town restaurant, all played in her mouth together: bamboo shoots, garlic, soy sauce, mushrooms. It was an earthier taste, not one she was used to. The level of refinement had been replaced by a level of comfort that made Erina's body physically relax as she savored the spring-roll-esque dish. She almost felt like she was being enveloped in a maternal embrace, one that relaxed while invigorating.

"Do you like it?" Erina was jerked out of her food-induced reverie by a rather concerned looking Sōma, who had long since finished his explanation of the durian-stink head-squid. Ikumi, Takumi, and Akira weren't paying attention anymore, talking about how to best incorporate pears into cooking without overwhelming flavors (or scents, as Akira insisted on).

"It's adequate," Erina said primly, putting the almost-completely-eaten harumaki on the plate and pushing it away with a finger.

"Come on," Sōma grumbled, staring almost spitefully at the plate Erina had pushed away. "It's been eight years since I promised to make you think my cooking was delicious. Not once have I succeeded."

"How did you remember that and nothing about Hospitality Class?" Erina said, her face beginning to heat up and her eyes darting back and forth between Sōma's intense gaze and the plate in front of her. Truth be told, the food was more than just adequate. All of Sōma's cooking was more than 'adequate'. It was just the morals she had established with Sōma in her first year that didn't let her tell him of her approval. She had promised herself that nothing that this red-haired _child_ created could satisfy her, and the promise was one that she planned to keep.

Of course, it was getting harder and harder to stay on track, since his food became more and more delicious with each dish he offered her.

"You're the one person that I've offered my dishes to that doesn't come away from eating them with a happy look and a full stomach, and I can't understand why. Even Shinomiya-senpai likes what I make!" Sōma gestured towards a pink-haired man who was unconsciously eating something that looked suspiciously like one of Sōma's taiyaki. The aforementioned man froze mid-bite before grumpily swallowing his mouthful and putting the food back on his plate, though it took only a few seconds before he reluctantly picked it back up and took another bite. "See?"

"I get it, Yukihira-kun, you're good at cooking. Can I just eat in peace, now?" Shinomiya grumbled. Inui giggled as she sat beside him before flinching away from his usual response (i.e. an outstretched hand heading straight towards the top of her head). Mizuhara just blinked before silently holding out a plate of her finished crostini for Takumi to take. Sōma just grinned impishly at Shinomiya before turning back around to look at Erina, the smile immediately disappearing once the older alumni couldn't see his face.

"So?"

"Your flavors are still lacking," Erina snapped, her mind racing as she tried to find a reason why she couldn't appreciate his food, besides her private oath. "The formal training that Tōtsuki gave you is nowhere near enough to get to the level I expect." Hearing her own words, she knew that there was little to no logic behind them and that they didn't have any of her former vehemence. She knew that Sōma could tell her words were an act.

Sōma sighed before letting a tired smile creep onto his face. "I guess I'll just have to keep trying," he said firmly, his gaze more inspired than ever. Erina was taken aback; she had expected him to call out on her bluff, to tell her that she was being close-minded. Instead, he was determined to make her compliment his food with no threat. She bit her lip and looked away from the boy. Even that word was a lie. Sōma wasn't a boy any longer. She knew that fact to be true in the very core of her being.

Meanwhile, Sōma was chatting nonchalantly with Satoshi and Terunori, the former of whom was somehow still dressed in his slacks and button-up shirt. Sōma's previous seriousness seemed forgotten in the benign teasing and heckling the three engaged in (or, really, just Sōma and Terunori, with Satoshi occasionally defusing any tempers that went off between them). Nene had come to the small gathering, passed around a plate of what she called 'berry pizza' (Takumi and Mizuhara had harrumphed at the misclassification of 'pizza'), taken one of Akira's offered deviled eggs, and returned to her room without engaging in any conversations or even saying a word. Some of the other alumni came and left as well; Tsukasa, for one, was apparently still flooded with paperwork much like the kind he rather vocally detested while at Tōtsuki, so he came by for about an hour before leaping up and racing down the hall to finish his work, all while loudly protesting.

"I know you're lying."

Erina stiffened at the words.

Akira was watching her from the corner of his eye, a faint smirk curling the edges of his mouth.

"I don't know what you mean, Hayama-san," Erina said carefully, with her typical prim manner.

"Tell me what's wrong with the food Yukihira-kun made."

Erina balked. She glanced down at the plate in front of her, with the food that had long gone cold sitting right on top of it.

"The flavors are too mild. The dough feels overcooked." Erina felt her mouth dry as she listed random things that she could associate with the harumaki.

"Harumaki are supposed to have mild flavors. Some chefs find that it's more pleasing to slightly burn the dough on theirs, though it seems as though Yukihira-kun has taken the extra effort to ensure that that's not the case here." Akira picked up her partially eaten food item with a pair of chopsticks and held it about three inches away from his nose. He inhaled slightly, absorbing more information from the scent. "Each ingredient was separately prepared. Usually, lesser chefs just throw everything together in the pan and hope that the final product is good. Here, Yukihira-kun has boiled and then pan-fried the shrimp, cooked the pork, chopped the bamboo shoots and boiled them for maybe three seconds before frying those as well, and made certain to put the onions in at the last possible second to retain the crunch. He used peanut oil, which is widely regarded to be known as the best for stir-fried foods, but he then patted all excess oil off of the inner ingredients because he knew he would be frying the spring rolls separately anyhow. Even now, there's almost no oil on this. There's an odd ingredient though."

Erina raised an eyebrow at the dark-skinned chef, who put the food back on the plate with a surprisingly wistful smile.

"I never would have thought to put birch syrup in harumaki."

"Birch syrup?" Erina repeated, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what that would taste like.

"It's overshadowed by its older cousin, maple syrup, but I believe it's widely produced in upper Canada and Alaska. I remember Yukihira-kun mentioning Alaskan foods before, but he must have picked this up there as well. From what little I know, birch syrup has the same sugar content as maple, but it is used for more savory dishes, like pork. It can also be coppery, or it can be sweet as honey. This one is the latter. It was made to be easy to eat and comforting for the soul. And from what I can detect, he hit the target perfectly. This is a dish meant for someone to enjoy eating.

"Which is why I can't understand why you don't."

Erina's breath caught in her throat.

Akira continued, oblivious to her shock and slight mortification. "In fact, I would wager that Yukihira-kun has gone far above and beyond any of us with this dish. He had no afternoon sessions, from what I remember, as his task only works in the morning, what with the overall humidity level being much lower when the sun comes up. The other alumni didn't see any part of him before came out with a pot for the others to use, and that was after Kinokuni-senpai's session, I believe. He's been in his hotel room the entire time, coming up with two recipes to bring here. He didn't remember taiyaki, so I would assume that he didn't take nearly as much leeway in that, and I don't think that Yukihira-kun would care much for the amount of time he spent on that vile trash he shoved in my face earlier. From what I remember Isshiki-senpai saying earlier, he had to air his room out after working on it. That means that he's been working on that dish since noon, up until maybe four-thirty when he started work on the squid. I spent about an hour on my deviled eggs, and that was only because of preparation time. I gave almost no thought to this gathering of ours."

"Neither did I," Erina interjected, trying to stop Akira's monologue. Unfortunately, the sensory chef was far too observant to let that pass him by.

"Is this all because of your ego, Nakiri-san?" he said in a much quieter voice. "Is that all? That grandiose speech he made when he was still a teenager?"

"It's not only that, Hayama-san," Erina said in a clipped tone.

"Is it because he bypassed you? Because he bypassed us all? I was angry about that too, but his passion for cooking burned much brighter than any of ours did. That's the reason why he was successful and we were not. He had a goal. Ours was to make the First Seat. His was to impress his father. Believe me when I say I believe that is a much loftier goal."

"Stop it, Hayama-san," Erina said in a monotone. "I don't want to hear any of this. I don't like his food."

"Why not?"

"Why should you care?"

"I shouldn't," Akira agreed. "But you should."

With that, he got up to wander over and talk to Ikumi and Takumi, who were engaged in a conversation with Shinomiya and Inui over how to run a restaurant. The conversation was noticeably becoming more of an argument. More and more people were joining in, adding their own points, until it became a violent shout-out. Erina just watched, not really listening. She was still lost in the conversation she had just had with Akira.

"What do you think, Erina?"

The blonde girl froze before glancing up, her mind completely blank. She couldn't think of anything to say.

Everyone was staring at her: Akira with sympathy, Ikumi and Takumi with confusion, the others with expectation. The others, that is, except for Sōma. His eyes betrayed only the slightest hint of an emotion that Erina could not identify.

"Well?" the red-haired chef prompted. It finally struck her that he was the one to speak to her. _Well, of course,_ she scoffed at herself. _No one else calls me without a suffix._

"What was the question?" she asked in her typical haughty tone.

"Do customers matter more than critics? Inui-senpai says 'of course' and Shinomiya-senpai thinks that they're equal, with critics maybe being slightly more. I say that they are, Akira isn't sure, Kuga-senpai seems to only care for his spice" ("Hey!" the spiky-haired man grumbled) "Nikumi doesn't know since she doesn't run a restaurant at the moment, and Takumi agrees with me, for once."

"Why should I care for that?" Erina snapped at him. "Your customers bring you revenue, yes, but if you can't please yourself first of all, then why bother trying to please others at all? Customers, critics; none matter to me if they can't please my palate." She stood up and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to bed. I don't care if my task doesn't come about for another couple of days. I need to work on my recipes."

As she walked away, down the hall, she finally realized what that modicum of emotion in Sōma's gaze had been.

 _But why would he be jealous of me?_

* * *

 **(who said he was jealous of you erina hmmmm) (maybe he's jealous about something else) (not that i'm going to say) (or Sōma actually) (oblivious idiot)**

 **also there's a reason why Akira ended up Third Seat behind Sōma and Erina "God's Tongue" Nakiri. He is perceptive to a whole other level.**

 **Ahem, anyhow. Thanks for reading! Any questions? Please leave me a review!**

 **~Shriayle**


	7. DAY 2: MIZUHARA'S TASK

**...do none of you read these messages..? I have a rather valid reason why Sōma is called 'Son of the Devil', and it's not his dad. Also, from what I recall, Jōichirō was only known as 'Asura' while he attended Tōtsuki, so I don't think calling him the 'Devil' was as widespread a thing as Sōma's name is.**

 **Also, in case you didn't notice, I've uploaded a cover for this story :D I might go back and actually draw one later, but for now, this'll do.**

 **If you're curious, I can think of at least three, maybe four pairings that will be in this story. Just, not of the same magnitude. And focus.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Laury rose:** Sōma's got some experience with creating gross stuff at this point :P He's also a bit absent-minded when it comes to remembering those kinds of tiny tidbits. He's still oblivious as heck. And you're pretty much exactly right on the mark with your statement. | **MatchaWave:** I'd imagine that Jōichirō is rather tight-lipped about his time working for Erina, so Sōma probably doesn't know any details outside of 'I worked for her once'. If he did, though, he would be fuming mad. also who said both things can't be true hmmm? Tsukasa is actually very important in a few scenes! I just didn't know where to squeeze him in quite yet. Akira has little to no worries about how much he antagonizes people. I would imagine that calling out spice vendors on their bluff with no fear of their giant meaty fists would do that to you. Also, Akira knows that Erina knows what he's saying is true, which helps him say what he had to. | **Cat McHall:** Terunori will never change. Period. I can't imagine him changing. Except maybe getting slightly worse, unfortunately for Nene. | **| Hypocrisy |:** Oh hello there :D Sōma/Erina moments will become more and more prevalent as the story goes on, since the first day has been established! I'm taking a little more leeway in terms of timing and scenes now, so expect more character interactions! Sōma is jealous of something that seems very petty to everyone else but also endearing. Akira's analysis was quite fun to write, though I had to do more than a fair bit of research to make it all come together perfectly. Shipping is fun to me as well yes it is. | **Demon Damian:** Many fans of the ship-happy moments, geez. I can see where you're coming from on the nicknames, and I think your review has inspired me with better names for those two :D Much thanks to you~ | **Envoy of the White Moon:** Sōma has left me a note stating that he's trying his hardest and that he plans to succeed in the next few days. I'll be in charge of that, Sōma... and yes, more character building will happen now that the rest of the exposition is done! | **XD (Guest):** HERE YOU GO | **Guest:** Thanks! | **NefCanuck:** Erina has a stubbornness unseen in any other human being ever. She knows that her grudge is stupid, but she's still at that point of denial with Sōma. The others from their Generation find it more than a little amusing, the way the cycle of Sōma trying and Erina rejecting goes. The other alumni in general just shake their heads and accept it. | **Ken18 (Guest):** Huh, that might work for Ryo, possibly. Sōma's name is a bit more concrete than that, but I'll consider it for Ryo. Thanks :D | **Arbitually:** The alumni have long since realized that competing with their former classmates is stupid since now they have to work together and help each other succeed on the world's stage. And no one is more salty than Takumi about Sōma's placement. Alice has analyzed the chemistry between Sōma and Erina and assures me that it's all perfect and there's nothing wrong with it, but I'm not sure if I quite believe her. | **hugp1x:** To be fair, no one outside of Tōtsuki/Polar Star knows Jōichirō as 'The Devil'. That assumption comes from when Jōichirō is in New York and everyone refers to him as Yukihira rather than Saiba or Demon or whatever. Sōma doesn't really like it, I would think, but he just grudgingly accepts it and moves on. | **Agnew (Guest):** Ahhh I'm honored! It's not been a month since this was published and already it's grown so much~ Rather daunting, if you ask me. Oh, and yeah, chapter here.

* * *

Mizuhara Fuyumi discreetly wiped the sleep from her eyes as she watched the students enter the kitchen. The party had gone on longer than anyone else had thought it would, and she had even left 'early' at two-thirty. Mizuhara remembered walking through the foyer and seeing Ikumi fast asleep on one of the couches as well as Terunori sprawled underneath the table, snoring loudly. She sighed at the memory; it was lucky that neither of them had early sessions to lead, or they would have been an embarrassment for the rest of the alumni.

She was curled up in what she called her typical observing position, though she would definitely rather eat the trash that Sōma had conjured up before admitting that sitting in such a manner just made her seem a bit taller than she really was. She didn't need these children talking down to her just because she had barely grown since high school.

There were far fewer students in her class than there were yesterday, which was to be expected since the first day of firing had ended. She glanced over them all; some of the students that other alumni had told her about were there, as well as some other, average students. She could sense which ones wouldn't make it through the three years Tōtsuki threw its students through, even if they survived the camp. She could easily pinpoint those who weren't confident, determined, driven, or creative enough, just by their body language.

Mizuhara was known for her observation skills. Akira worked with his nose, Erina with her tongue. Tsukasa was known as a tactile chef who could easily detect the ripeness of fruit, vegetables, and meat alike just by holding it, but no chef could know when food was done at a glance the way Mizuhara could. The reason why she was so good with Italian cuisine was that her eyes could easily pick out when pasta was ready or risotto perfectly done in a way that others could only detect by taste. She knew that others were testing the students on what they specialized in, but she couldn't subject the students to that. All of the students would be gone within ten minutes.

The students had all filed in by the time her musing had just about wrapped up. She glanced up at them and sighed slightly before turning her attention to them fully.

"You've survived one day. Good job, I'd say, but you've got a few more to go." Some students in the back deflated, as though they knew that they wouldn't survive. Were she playing by Sōma's rules, they would be out of the kitchen in an instant, but now wasn't the time to contemplate what-if's. She blinked her perceptive crimson eyes and retrained her stare on the others in the room. "From what I know, we alumni are celebrities among you students. I would hope you know my specialty, then."

The students nodded as one.

"Well, this request should be expected then. Make me a pasta dish in the time it takes for this session to end. That is all. I will be walking around and watching you work."

The students blinked before murmuring amongst themselves. Mizuhara gave them a signal, letting them know to start, before leaning back in her seat. She watched students search for pasta, fail in their searching, and immediately grab the proper ingredients for making their own dough. She watched some pour too much flour and immediately compensate by adding more liquids and vice versa. Others started on their sauce first, mashing tomatoes or mixing cream with cheese. Mizuhara's keen gaze saw every movement, like a queen watching over her subjects. It was this look, one that showed how much she demanded out of the chefs in her kitchen, that had led critics to calling her 'La Regina'. She was queen over Italian cuisine and over her employees.

Personally, she didn't really approve of the name, but what the people want to call you is never any business of yours, no matter how famous you become. Other alumni had faced this unfortunate fact throughout their careers. Really, the nickname you got from the public wasn't anything you could control, despite what you wished.

Something caught her attention: a practically transparent dark stream of smoke. "Chef 3-8, something is burning," she said sharply. The chef in question, a girl with sandy-blond hair, blinked her large ice-blue eyes, counting where she was in the third aisle, before glancing back at her pot, jumping slightly, and lowering the temperature of her stove immediately before going back to running her dough through a pasta maker. Mizuhara nodded slightly in approval.

Another extra swirl of steam from somewhere it shouldn't have been. "Chef 2-15, you are steaming something for too long. Please remove the food from your stove."

"Please wait, ma'am," the boy said once he figured out she was talking to him. He was watching his pot with devotion. "I only need two more minutes."

"Chef 2-15, please remove the food from your stove," Mizuhara repeated, her voice raising ever so slightly.

"Ninety more seconds, please!"

"Remove it," she said one more time. She was almost snapping at him now.

"Fifty-five!"

Mizuhara immediately leapt off of her chair and stormed over to the student, who was fervently counting seconds down under his breath. She glanced over at the pot, her lip curling slightly. The steam had increased, just as she thought, and now the shrimp that the boy had been working with was practically ruined. "You would have forty-three seconds left if you had started your temperature five degrees less," she said tersely, deftly turning the stove off. "The food's ruined. You're dismissed for insubordination."

The boy looked from his pot to her, back and forth, his face contorting in desperation. "Ch-chef Mizuh―"

"Did I stutter?" she asked, her voice back in its emotionless tone.

"N-no, chef." He deflated almost immediately.

"Good. I didn't think so. Now, please leave."

The boy didn't protest as he took all of the food he had on the stove off before walking out of the door, not saying a single word.

Mizuhara glanced behind her on her way back to the chair. "What are you watching? All of you are going to cook something for too long if you keep watching the wrong thing," she said passively, her legs propped up underneath her, elbows balanced on her knees. She watched them scramble back to work, suddenly tense. She would have thought that they would be used to the high standards and expulsion rates after yesterday.

The first few students to bring up their attempts at cooking pasta had been sent back after a single glance. She had seen their underdone noodles, their burnt sauces, their raw and overdone meats. She was too used to this task and too skilled at finding the amateur flaws to do anything else, having come to the camps for almost a decade, now, always presenting the same task to the students. Few students managed to impress her. She allowed some to pass if she deemed their meal adequate without even lifting the fork she had on her table with her, gesturing towards the door on the other side of the building.

"Chef Mizuhara?" The slate-haired woman glanced up. In front of her stood a girl with pinkish-brown hair, wide and slightly frazzled looking emerald eyes shining out towards the alumna. She held in her hands... huh?

The girl placed the plate on Mizuhara's table, pushing it forwards slightly. "This is my dish."

Pitch black noodles, coupled with a dazzlingly white sauce. Green specks of herbs and carefully chopped tomatoes covered the pasta, the color only enhanced by the monochromatic parts of the dish. Mizuhara glanced back up to see a very determined looking student.

"This isn't what I expected from someone at your level," Mizuhara muttered, brandishing her fork for the first time in the entire session. She could see that the pasta was done perfectly, that the sauce was just the right consistency, and the herbs and tomatoes were the best compliment in the kitchen's pantry, but her curiosity was more than piqued by the dish that the student presented. She carefully swirled a single noodle (it resembled linguine the most to her, though it was still a bit broader than typical Italian pastas) and placed it in her mouth, eyes closed to focus on the taste.

It was as if she had jumped into the ocean. The brininess of the noodles and salt wove together against her palate, embracing her in a rather cold yet welcoming presence. The fresh herbs and tomatoes washed around her, bringing a crisp flavor that the noodles and sauce couldn't bring to her without them. Everything was coming together like schools of fish that gently brushed against her legs. She dove back underwater and saw the red and green fish, so small to her, dart through the cloudy white waters, while black cuttlefish darted by as well.

Satisfied, Mizuhara opened her eyes to see a rather worried-looking student.

"Where did you learn to use squid ink?" she asked.

"I-I'm an artist, Chef," the girl said. "Sepia ink is usually made up of squid or cuttlefish inks, and when I found out that they're used in cooking as well, I researched how to use them and travelled to many restaurants to inquire after it. After a lot of disappointment and rejections, one chef was kind enough to show me how it's used in cooking."

"It takes two hours alone for the dough to set. How did you speed that up?"

"I put it in the blast chiller for a few minutes before letting it sit out. The quick cooling helped the pasta set, but it didn't cause too many structural problems that would have been caused by keeping it in the chiller for too long."

"And what's in this sauce? It doesn't taste like any cream I've ever had before."

"It's ricotta cheese mixed with evaporated milk, with a seafood stock made up of a lot of the others' scraps," the girl clarified. "It's made to be as light as possible while also providing the same texture as cream in a sauce. The seafood components are brought by the stock and the noodles, with the vegetables off-setting the somewhat-richness of the seafood."

Mizuhara nodded in satisfaction. "You pass. Thank you for your work."

The girl's eyes lit up and she bowed deeply to her. "Thank you, Chef!" she squealed.

"Be careful. Your hair nearly got in the food."

The girl blushed deeply, pawing at her long-ish ponytail in the hopes that none of the sauce accidentally brushed against it. She bowed again, more demurely this time, before leaving through the other door of the room.

Mizuhara relaxed in her stance, putting the fork down. She wasn't sure how many of the others' dishes she would want to taste now, after the surprising dish that the girl had given her.

* * *

Mizuhara, who had met up with Shinomiya, Akira, and Satoshi, walked out of the elevator into a shouting match.

"WHY THE HELL WERE YOU ASLEEP UNDER A TABLE?!"

"WHY THE HELL WERE WE UP SO LATE?! AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STOP SHOUTING!"

"I WASN'T UP LATE AT ALL, KUGA-SENPAI! IT'S LIKE YOU JUST WANT SOMEONE TO STEP ON YOU IF YOU'RE UNDER THE TABLE! GET SOME COMMON SENSE, MORON!"

"MORON?! SINCE WHEN DID YOU CALL ME BY THAT NAME, HIME?"

"SINCE YOU PROVED TO BE TOO STUPID TO BE WORTHY OF ANY OF MY RESPECT!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO GOING ON ABOUT?!"

The other elevator had opened, revealing Sōma, Inui, Tsukasa, and Nene. It had been the first alumnus to shout over the others' din, cutting their argument off, running a hand through his hair as he did so in exasperation.

"Honestly, we come up here to have a _little_ down-time before next session and you two are going at it like a married couple!" Sōma said with a small grin. Mizuhara blinked. The grin was definitely more than a little fake, though no one else noticed, especially not the arguing alumni.

"I'LL MARRY THAT WARUGAKI WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER, SŌMA!" Erina snapped while pointing at Terunori, her temper more than piqued. She had calmly walked into the lobby to reclaim the cell phone she left in the room after leaving in a hurry the night before only to trip over one of Terunori's sprawled out legs and come crashing to the floor, giving herself a bad bruise on her forehead and riling up her temper. Terunori had, of course, woken up from the impact and the sound of Erina falling, but he was still more than half asleep and didn't particularly like the sound of Erina's sharp reprimands in his tired state.

"Hell'll freeze over the second you, like, take a step into it, Nakiri-chan," Terunori grumbled, sitting on the table with a pout on his face.

"Kutabare!"

"Alright, children, settle down," Inui said, trying to placate them all over again, but as usual, she was largely ignored by the younger alumni. She uselessly flailed her hands about before turning to Mizuhara with a pleading glance. "Fuyumi-senpai, do something!"

Mizuhara responded with a half-hearted shrug. She really didn't want to get involved. At all. This was more entertaining than watching students flounder with making pasta all morning.

To be honest, in her humble opinion, she thought Sōma was doing more than well at placating the argument and didn't really need any help. Then again, all he had done was bring out a tiny parcel from his pocket, wave it around threateningly, and telling the two alumni that he wasn't afraid to make them eat whatever it was that was in the package. Naturally, they shut up.

The other alumni had left by then, leaving only Mizuhara, Inui, Sōma, Erina, and Terunori in the lobby. Inui glanced over at her elder before bowing slightly and walking off to her room as well. Mizuhara sent one last glance over the threesome that remained before deciding that they would be perfectly fine and most likely not blow anything up if she left.

Terunori twirled part of his blond bang around a finger, re-pinned it with a stray bobby pin, glanced at the other two, scoffed, and walked out of the room, muttering something about never wanting to even see a squid ever again. They left Erina and Sōma alone in the room.

An awkward silence ensued. It wasn't unexpected at all, since the two remaining alumni were known for their awkwardness around each other, though they were the only two oblivious of it.

"Your mouth really needs to be washed out sometimes, eh, Erina?" Sōma cracked, smirking at her.

The woman blushed a furious red. "That's none of your business, Sōma," she snarled at him, flustered.

"And that's two."

"Excuse me?" her gaze snapped over to Sōma's.

"Twice now you've called me Sōma. Not Yukihira-kun. Not Yukih-iya. Not even Sōma-kun. Just plain old Sōma."

Erina's amethyst eyes widened when she finally made the connection.

"Don't you _dare_ think that means anything! S-sometimes I call people by their first names. It's nothing!" she spat at him, uncertain of herself all of a sudden.

"Who do you call by their first name?"

"Alice. Hisako. Jōichirō. Ikumi, sometimes."

"So, your cousin, your assistant, my dad-slash-your role model" (Erina blushed even deeper at that) "and a girl you've known since middle school. This isn't really helping your case, Erina."

"Well, why do you call me Erina and not Nakiri-san the way you call all of the senpai correctly? In fact, why don't you call _any_ of us in the 92nd Generation by our formal names?! It's disgraceful and disrespectful! You'd think you didn't grow up in Japan!"

Sōma cocked his head sideways in confusion. "I didn't grow up in Japan."

Another awkward silence.

"What?"

"You know my pops. He's always travelling, always adding onto his experience. Always trying to add more styles to his giant list of memories to draw from. A kid didn't stop him from going on and on. My mom was my tutor until I was eight, and then Pops actually hired a retired professor of sorts to travel with us and teach me on the road. It wasn't until middle school when we settled down and started Restaurant Yukihira."

Erina blinked, taking all of the information he had just given her in. "Then where did you grow up?"

Sōma's face went blank. "A-actually, I'm not sure. All I remember is that they didn't speak in Japanese, but I know too many other languages for that to help." He struck a thinking pose, a finger balanced against his lips, his eyes trained onto the ground. "That's starting to bug me now."

Erina felt a huge urge to introduce her already-injured forehead to her open palm.

After a few moments of flustered thinking, Sōma waved his hand through the air eerily similarly to how Inui had just tried to placate the argument, though he looked more like he was brushing a fly away than anything. "Th-that's not what matters right now! What matters is that... uh... where was I even going with this before you derailed my train of thought?"

"I'm impressed that you know the word 'derailed'," Erina muttered, rubbing her forehead and wincing. Sōma noticed her slight twinge of pain.

"You'll want to put some green tea on your forehead to treat that. It helps."

"Tea?" Erina repeated with a scoff.

"Come on, I can go brew some and show you how, if you want."

Erina looked at his distrustfully. Sōma held his hands up helplessly.

"What else could I do to you? Pops taught me not to take advantage of a girl. And also not to beat her. Or degrade her. Or anything else. There's nothing to worry about."

Erina felt her lip curl as she ground her teeth in anger. She didn't need this... well, she had already established in her mind that he was a child no longer, but still! She didn't need his help with treating something that would fade in a few weeks. Though the students might not respect her as much if they learned that she had tripped over another alumnus's leg and injured herself. Not even her palate's reputation could save her from that.

She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Fine, let's go."

Sōma's gold eyes flashed with unadulterated surprise before fading into a welcoming comfort. "Heading out!" he said rather loudly, pointing in the direction of the hallway. His hand still held the package that he had threatened Terunori and her with earlier.

On the way to the room (thankfully none of the other alumni had seen them walk off together), Erina asked, "Sōma, what's in that box of yours?"

"Oh, this? From what I remember the letter said, there's a saffron bulb from Iran, a stick of ceylon cinnamon from Sri Lanka, and a few pods of cardamom from somewhere in South America. I think Pops said was Guate-something. I didn't actually open yet. Not sure if I'm going to hold onto them or hand them off to Akira later. I mean, Pops intended for me to use them, but I haven't got a clue how to harvest the spices or anything. Actually, I don't even know how he managed to get it shipped here and also keep them fresh." He shook the box slightly to ascertain himself of its contents. Satisfied with the rustling, he put the box in his left jacket pocket, a flash of white plastic accompanying the box's less than graceful storage.

Erina blinked. "So, it wasn't the squid that you fed us last night?"

"What? Why would I carry that around with me everywhere? Do you really think I would walk around smelling like rotten fruit and seafood just to threaten you whenever you argue?" Sōma looked completely bewildered at the idea.

"I mean, I wouldn't put it past you," Erina grumbled.

"I wouldn't either, but I have some common sense when it comes to food," Sōma admitted, looking for his card key in his pocket as they stood outside of his door. He frowned as he patted the two front and back pockets of his pants. "Where's my key?"

Erina felt herself flush at the sight of Sōma frantically rummaging through his pants pockets. She inwardly berated herself. "It's in your jacket pocket, baka," she muttered under her breath, looking away, her cheeks still pink. Sōma glanced at her before reaching into the aforementioned pocket, smiling triumphantly, and taking his card key out.

"Thanks, Erina!" he said cheerfully as he slid the card into its slot and opened his door.

"Don't mention it," she grumbled, reluctantly following him inside.

* * *

 **Warugaki- brat**

 **Kutabare- drop dead/go to hell**

 **Yukih-iya- Yukihira + 'iya', an expression of disgust. I honestly don't know how I came up with this one.**

 **I decided to cut the session scenes a bit short because who cares about watching kids fail and succeed and bleh. So have more Sōma/Erina! :D**

 **One more thing: SEE ARTIST GIRL THERE? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HER NAME SHOULD BE. She's a seafood specialist, kind of a blend of Ryo, Mizuhara, and Megumi in terms of cooking style, but she acts a lot more like Yūki and Megumi put together. Confident but ditzy. Y'know. That kind of girl.**

 **Also, I have thirteen main characters in this fiction. Varying degrees of main, yes, but main nonetheless. Could you let me know who you want to see more of? I tend to forget that some exist after a while, and only referring back to my planning document reminds me of their existence (sorry Tsukasa and Dojima n_n ) (even if your negligence was somewhat on purpose, Tsukasa)**

 **-Shriayle**


	8. DAY 2: SATOSHI'S TASK

**IT HASN'T BEEN A MONTH SINCE BEING PUBLISHED AND THIS STORY HAS THE EIGHTH HIGHEST NUMBER OF REVIEWS IN THE SHOKUGEKI ARCHIVES?! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. HAVE AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER :DDDD no seriously it's literally 12 pages on Microsoft Word what have I done. I don't think any chapters will ever be this long ever again x_x**

 **(to anyone who thinks I just searched for my story in particular, I was looking for more stories to get inspiration for some characters xD I'm not that narcissistic, don't worry)**

 **Oh, and I got the girl a name :D Thanks to Just a guest, Laury Rose and Demon Damian for their suggestions! You'll see what it is in the story.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **NefCanuck:** The tasks aren't always fair, I feel. Shinomiya in canon, for example. Erina's still trying to get past the idiot she knew in school, but it's not easy for her since he's essentially the same person xD | **Cat McHall:** Ahhhh I want to revise his task seeing as it's the nEXT CHAPTER that we find out what his specialty is... but the website I read the manga on isn't up to date with 132 D: | **Just a guest (Guest):** Thanks for suggesting that name! It's really cute :) | **Agnew (Guest):** This chapter is in no way as balanced as the last one. I have no regrets. | **MatchaWave:** The tension is only apparent in Erina's mind since she's more conscious about it now :P and ahhh thank you! I'm happy you enjoy the interactions I make between them. Tsukasa is an amazing character but I haven't read 132 yet since I don't have access to it aND IT ANNOYS THE HECK OUT OF ME. I WANT TO READ IT SO BADLY D: | **FieryDarkWraith:** Probably not what you imagined ;) The summary... I have no idea what I want to do with it. All of the possible revisions I could make are way too telling about the story... and Sōma's expelled more students simply because Erina hasn't hosted any classes yet. Her task is one of the last ones, to be given on the last two days :) | **Neroj:** whoa there that escalated D: aaaand it also gave me plot bunnies to work with, so thanks~ | **Laury Rose:** She might call him Sōma again later ;) Her eyes have been opened to what the others have seen for years now, but the name thing wasn't intentional on her part. She was just flustered as all heck. And those characters shall be featured in the future :) | **DragonGirl135:** I really wish that I started writing this story like this week because then I would have written Rindō into the first line-up and into the classes :C Of course, she's still going to show up because she is adorable :3c Also Eishi is a wonderful person bUT I NEED TO KNOW HOW HE COOKS. I AM SO IRRITATED THAT I CAN'T READ CHAPTER 132. | **Demon Damian:** oh look a chapter~ looks like it's been updated. | **Ken18 (Guest):** I love reading reviews and also replying to them :D ye asked for more Akira and ye shall receive. | **| Hypocrisy |:** SHE HAS ENTERED THE LAIR, ALERT ALERT. And Sōma knows exactly what people fear about his cooking and he knows how to exploit that to his advantage (see Mayu from middle school). I have a headcanon that Jōichirō sends stuff that he knows Sōma can't/doesn't use while on his travels, just to mess with him. Sōma also knows that eating spices, especially raw spices, isn't any more fun than eating his crazy creations. Mizuhara is me with friends whenever she's with the other alumni from those Generations :3 I love her so much~

* * *

The noontime sun shot striking rays of light through the windows of the room. It had been barely a day and a half, but the students that milled about felt like it had been months since they were enrolled in the hell that was Tōtsuki's Friendship and Rapport Camp. Seoyun listened with distracted ears as her friends and housemates, Kaede and Umiko, complained about the harsh tasks that they had to endure thus far. She spoke her vague encouragements, wondering who this alumnus would be now and what craziness they would have to go through.

At the exact moment the class was supposed to start, a ceiling tile seemed to move. A ceiling tile right above where the alumnus would stand and watch them work. It suddenly retracted from the ceiling and the students heard a soft _thump!_ right before what looked like a hand peeked out of the hole.

A young man, his pale blue eyes shimmering with joy and a welcoming smile on his face, popped his head through the ceiling and grinned openly at the students. "Hello there!" he said, his beaming visage seeming to sparkle in the light, completely oblivious to the shocked shouts and backwards stumbling that had overtaken the room. "Welcome to your next class! While I'd love to let you all just call me 'senpai' and be done with the formalities, I'm afraid that Shinomiya-senpai or Dōjima-senpai would forbid me from coming back, especially since I've been scooting about in here all day yesterday."

He deftly swung his arms out of the hole in the ceiling and grabbed onto the smoke detector for only a second before curling up, somehow wiggling his lower half through the hole, and landing on the table perfectly balanced on the balls of his feat. The acrobatic feat would have been shocking enough if the alumnus didn't emerge from the ceiling wearing only a pink apron before somehow landing with a collared, formal looking button-up white shirt and black slacks on underneath the apron. He smiled innocently at the thunderstruck class.

"How did you do that?" Umiko said with a dazed look. All of the other students shared the same expression; they didn't really expect someone to pop out of the ceiling just for the shock factor. Or for any other factor. They preferred to think that their ceilings were safe from crazy twenty-somethings who also managed to surpass more than a hundred of their peers.

"Hmm? I'm not sure of what you're talking about, Minami-chan," the alumnus responded.

He turned to the class, a much more devious, calculating smile on his face now. "My name is Isshiki Satoshi, former Second Seat of the 91st Generation, second only to Kinokuni Nene. I will be your instructor for this session."

"I can't take a guy in a pink apron seriously," Rajya said, deadpan. She began to play with her shoulder-length blue hair before sighing and tying it up in a quick ponytail.

"I'm afraid you'll have to, Kannan-chan," Satoshi said firmly. "Now, if you don't have any more questions or comments, I'd like for you to turn your attention to the dish I have prepared for you to taste."

Each student glanced down at the small serving of food in front of them. It looked simple enough: a serving of rice, topped with an odd brown jelly that had been cut into small cubes, completed with a tiny fried egg on top of it all and a smear of light burnt orange paste. To be honest, it didn't exactly look like 'Second Seat Chef Isshiki' quality. It looked like something they would eat for brunch.

"Please sample it."

The students blinked, glanced at each other, and picked up their dishes, spooning a bite of food to eat it.

Immediately, they were flung into a world of backbreaking labor under the sun to harvest vegetables under the light of the autumn sun. They felt every tiny bit of rejuvenation from the food on their plate, strengthening them enough to swing the scythe one last time, to go forth with a fervent grin on their face as they set out to work again. They felt the smiles of people working around them, the joyful shouts of finding the ripest of vegetables, the laughter that came from being squirted with a hose after accidentally stepping into the spray. The egg raced through their veins, the odd jelly popping between their teeth, the smear of something that was obviously a vegetable paste imbibing their muscles with the earth's nourishment. They felt that they could work for hours and hours and still be tireless and party at night.

As the sensation faded, the students suddenly felt daunted as they realized what the task must be.

"Students! You stand at the point in your life where you have to strive for perfection every day, driven only by the friends you make and the goals you set for yourself! We all coexist on this Earth, and our drive to cook better unites us together! We sometimes clash in the kitchen, but it's all for the better, all to better ourselves and to better Tōtsuki as a whole!" Across the room, many people's eyes were blinking swiftly as they tried to analyze Satoshi's sudden change of mood. His carefree expression began to settle as soon as his outburst was finished, however, and he closed his eyes just long enough for the students to become quite unnerved.

"Now that you have tried my dish, I'd like to try yours," Satoshi said, a sneaky grin stretching across is visage, his eyes opening into narrow slits. "See, I've tested this kind of contest before, where I show my cooking and then see the other's, and it went much better than I thought. It's time to try it again. I'm looking for something that reminds me of my days at Tōtsuki, even if I didn't experience what you have experienced in the short time you've attended. Make me a dish that you think could compete against this one in a cook-off, perhaps even in Shokugeki, and win. You see my expectations. Now, I await your results. You have two hours, starting now."

An immediate rush of movement towards the pantry ensued from most of the students. The one that Sōma had noticed and pointed out to the other alumni, a girl with dark hair and the uniform of a common diner. She was looking at Satoshi's dish and picking it apart, tasting tiny bits of it time from time. As the brunet glanced around, he noticed that some other students were doing the same thing. The Indian-born Rajya, who Nene had mentioned after analyzing her, was absent-mindedly massaging her crippled hand as she stared intently at the dish, trying to piece together something she wanted to do. Kaede had finally begun his walk over to the pantry, counting something out on his fingers, and Umiko was on her way back, face still deep in thought. One other boy, one with hazel brown hair and scrutinizing purple eyes, was also contemplating Satoshi's dish while glaring at Seoyun with narrowed eyes every once in a while. Satoshi relaxed and began to daydream of the times when he was in their position, fighting for his right to become known as one of the elites that graduated. The other alumni wouldn't remember the fun times that he did, but the hardships they had to get through and the expectations piled onto them like the sky on Atlas's back. His eyes glazed over as he watched a scene from his past that flickered through his mind.

Seoyun finally figured out exactly what she wanted to do and ran to the window with a porcelain bowl, staring out desperately at the trees. It took her maybe three minutes to see what she wanted to.

"Chef Isshiki?" Everyone turned their heads to the girl at the window whose hand was in the air.

"Yes, Mun-chan?" he responded, snapping out of his daydream.

"May I have permission to go outside?"

An incessant murmuring began to start circulating through the room.

"If you're going to run away, no, but if you want to find something to use, go ahead," Satoshi responded, his interest piqued.

"Thank you, Chef," she said before literally opening the window as far as she could, taking the screen out, and jumping out of the building. Thankfully, they were on the first floor.

Satoshi blinked. "Well, I expected her to use the door..." he muttered to himself, not realizing that his confusion was rather hypocritical when it was coming from someone who travelled via ceiling.

After about fifteen minutes, Seoyun was back in the room with a bowl full of something. It was a bit more difficult for her to get back in, what with the full bowl, but Umiko ran over to grab the bowl and help her back in. Seoyun deftly snapped the screen back into place and closed the window before thanking her pink-brunette friend, taking the bowl, and returning to her station. The other students had been transfixed in her odd behavior but were snapped out of their stupor when they saw her furiously at work on... tree nuts of some sort?

Satoshi recognized them for what they were immediately and smiled openly at her inventiveness.

The student who had been glaring at Seoyun was the first to approach with his dish. Satoshi sensed an arrogance not unlike Eizan Etsuya, who had long since stopped cooking professionally and had, in essence, cornered the entire market of fast food in Tokyo and was working on expanding his reach.

"My dish, Chef," the boy said, his narrowed eyes betraying his distrust of Satoshi's judgment. Satoshi let a curling smirk slip onto his face, one that didn't match his typical outward demeanor, before reapplying a friendly smile and picking up a spoon. The boy made to describe what was in his dish when Satoshi held up a hand and stopped him from speaking.

"If your food is good enough, it will tell me what you're about to say," Satoshi said simply, carefully doling out a portion of the dish and tasting it.

It felt like being thrown in a boxing ring without being one of the competitors. Flavors slapped at Satoshi's palate more powerfully than Ryo's had ever done. Ryo had honed his violence to a craft that he knew how to handle and how to push. This boy had just thrown together flavors without understanding the proper need for balance within the dish. If he wanted to depict the chaos of battle, then he did so, but Satoshi didn't exactly know what to do about it.

"If this is your high school experience thus far, then I'm very concerned for you," he managed to say.

"I cook to win," the boy said shortly.

"One of my kouhais was like that as well," Satoshi said. "He knew what he was doing when he threw his patrons into a stupor from the ferocity of his hits. This," he gestured towards the dish, "is not knowing what you are doing."

The boy's face reddened.

"Come, you can't expect to beat me with this pedestrian dish?" Satoshi practically purred, his eyes narrowing. Rindō had been the feline character of Tōtsuki, yes, but she was the cuddly cat that everyone couldn't help but coo over. Satoshi had been the dangerous one, the one to trap those in his charge with his charm, catching them in embarrassing situations with ease, and watch in glee as they scrambled to their wits. This trait of his hadn't changed at all since his time at high school, and now he brought it out like a sharpened knife.

The students were his chunk of meat, ready to be shaped by his claws.

"It's not pedestrian," the boy muttered.

"Since I'm feeling rather magnanimous, I'll give you the rest of the time to try again," Satoshi said dismissively, leaning back in his chair and pushing the plate of half-eaten food away. He beamed at the boy, who was visibly growing angrier with each passing second. "It's your lucky day, you know. You don't get second chances in Shokugeki."

His unspoken words rang through the air: _or in real life._

The boy stiffly bowed, snatched up his plate, and stormed back to his station to try again.

Satoshi's legs had nearly fallen asleep when the next student he recognized approached. He had, by then, felt the short pulses of friendship, kinship, and hard work in a few of the students' dishes, and though he wasn't blown away by them, he let those successful teenagers pass and leave the room. He was still waiting for that one dish to send him back in time, but it hadn't come yet.

The clink of porcelain on the faux wood of the table in front of him made Satoshi glance up at the student that had delivered their dish. It had been the girl who jumped out of a window to retrieve a bowl of some ingredient. Mun Seoyun looked more nervous than Satoshi expected her to, but the second their glances met, all of her nerves were forced out of her posture. Satoshi smiled benevolently at her before silently taking in what she had made.

A fried rice. Golden grains mixed with neatly chopped brown nuts, orange cubes of some kind of vegetable, and the yellow threads of a loosely scrambled egg holding the components together. Green specks of leek were visible mixed into the rice, and a sprinkling of black seaweed and sesame seeds had been applied rather liberally all over the dish.

Satoshi breathed in the heartening scent of the food before taking a spoonful and scrutinizing it. The orange cubes seemed to be almost melting in the light, but he wasn't sure. Curiosity satisfied, Satoshi placed the spoonful of rice into his mouth and bit down.

A scene exploded around him. An old house, filled with unfamiliar laughter that rang in his mind. A deer nonchalantly running out of the front door, followed by a frantic golden-haired woman who was maybe a year his junior, her bright turquoise eyes wide in her panic as she shouted after the deer. A boy with orange hair, a pale complexion, and wide whitish-grey eyes was running after the deer as well, holding out a hand of what looked like salt, shouting after it. Satoshi followed the deer as it travelled down a familiar path through the front of the house until it opened up to a wide expanse of fields and orchards. Some other children were there― Seoyun's hair, held up with her chopsticks; a girl with waist-length white hair that had been tied back in a pair of braids; a boy with dark brown hair and scratches all over his bare arms. They smiled and shouted as they ran through the fields, holding baskets. Autumn leaves dotted the sky as they blew off of the trees, flying about in a myriad of golds and crimsons across the landscape.

Satoshi heard a shout from behind him and turned. He saw what had to be the most familiar sight of all: an old woman with unkempt white hair, bearing a tray of onigiri and snacks that she had just made up for them. The children all stopped their horsing about to run over, thank the old lady profusely, and partake in the food, enjoying their time.

Satoshi felt the scene ebb away as the last traces of flavor eased out of his mouth.

"You live at Polar Star?" he asked, casting his gaze at the girl in front of him.

"H-how did you know that?" Seoyun stuttered, staring from her food to his face, wondering if somehow her dish had told him.

"How's Yūki doing?" Satoshi asked, ignoring her question and only analyzing the unintentional affirmative.

"H-her game animals get in everyone's room and sometimes eat our vegetables, but she does well in tending to them. Her chicken breeding is soon to be a success in the market, I think," Seoyun said faintly. She was, frankly, overwhelmed by the immediate familiarity that the alumnus had immediately picked up on.

"Fumio-san's still kicking as well?"

"Y-yes."

Satoshi hummed, closing his eyes. "I see you used the same ingredients that I did in your dish," he said in an upbeat tone, as if his previous questions hadn't been asked at all.

Seoyun blinked in surprise at the quick change of topic. "Ah, yes. I had to spend some time analyzing what each was, but I got all of them. I fried the rice in olive oil after preparing the pickled acorns and flash-frozen pumpkin."

"You'll have to explain those last two to me," Satoshi said.

"I asked for permission to gather acorns outside. There's a swamp oak outside for whatever reason, but I know that the acorns from those are known to be the best for nutmeat. I shelled the acorns, soaked them in boiling water, and treated them like a kimchi from my homeland by pickling them with onions, soy sauce, and vinegar, though I didn't add any spices to ensure that the flavor profile wasn't too strong. After doing that, I got a segment of pumpkin, found a tankard of liquid nitrogen that was back there for whatever reason―"

"Alice," Satoshi muttered, unintentionally interrupting Seoyun's explanation.

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, please continue."

"Uh... oh yeah, so I dipped the pumpkin in, quickly diced it up, and threw it in the blast chiller. I just wanted to keep it cold until I finished the rice. So I fried everything together, put the pumpkin in at the last second, and managed to get it to you without the pumpkin melting everywhere, which was a relief on my end."

Satoshi hummed in pleasure at her concise explanation.

"You remind me of one of the alumni," he told her, putting an index finger against his lips.

Seoyun looked surprised at the comparison. "I'm a first-year," she spluttered out. "I haven't experienced anything the way that the alumni have."

"No matter," Satoshi said with a feline grin. "You're exactly like him."

"Who?"

* * *

Erina stepped carefully into the room, glancing about, as flighty as if she had walked into a room armed with timed bombs. The wallpaper, while beautiful, was a golden-beige with an easily forgettable pattern drawn with whites and pale creams, and the carpet was the same dark brown fuzz that was in the hallways and in her room. The bed wasn't made, as if Sōma had leapt out of bed, thrown his clothes on, and left the room to get to class (Erina was more than willing to bet that he had done exactly that). The provided table had been yanked away from its place next to the wall (the lamp that previously sat on it had been carefully placed on the ground where the table had been) and was set up near the middle of the room, effectively taking up all of the extra space. Sōma's little stove stood where the table had once been, its wire too short for him to stand it on the table.

Sōma nonchalantly put his box of spices down on the table, climbed over the bed to get on the other side of it, found a teapot from somewhere in his luggage, put a bag of tea in the pot, and began to boil water by balancing the wooden pot on top of the stove while making sure it didn't catch on fire.

"Is that safe?" Erina asked, still standing by the doorway, uncertain of how to walk past the table.

"It should be," Sōma said with a shrug. "I've been doing this for a couple years now, and it only caught on fire once last month."

"That's supposed to reassure me?" Erina muttered, shifting from side to side.

Sōma noticed her awkwardness. "Come on, Erina, just sit down and wait for the tea to boil," he said, pointing at the chair.

"It's on the other side of the table," Erina said in a weak protest.

"And?" Sōma responded, not seeing the problem.

"How do you expect me to get over there?" Erina finally said, rolling her eyes at Sōma's obliviousness.

"The same way I did?" Sōma said hesitantly, not understanding her discomfort.

" _Yukihira Sōma._ I am wearing a _skirt_ ," Erina hissed, beginning to flush.

"Is that why you got so pissed off at Kuga-senpai?" Sōma asked back, completely unconcerned with her reddening cheeks.

"I'm leaving," Erina said flatly, turning to leave the room. She took one step when she heard a resounding crash and loud swearing from behind her. She whipped back around, eyes widening the second she saw what had happened.

Sōma was on the ground, holding the back of his head, partially curled up while still managing to sit up. The chair was upside-down, its legs leaning against the table, the back balanced against the floor. The teapot had miraculously been completely untouched, as it gave a cheery squeal signifying that the tea was done.

"What did you just do?" Erina asked. She had no idea what else to say or do in the situation.

"Tried to move the chair over there for you. It got caught on the table on the way up before launching over it and smacking me in the head," Sōma said with a slight grunt of pain as he poked something on his arm. "Looks like I'm going to need some tea, too."

Sōma stood up, grabbed the teapot off of the stove, and set it on the table before lifting the chair up more carefully this time. He walked around the table, slid on the bed, and set the chair down. "There, no harm done this time," he said with a grin, looking satisfied with himself.

"As you said, this time," Erina muttered under her breath, sitting on the chair as daintily as she could. Sōma slipped behind her (she froze at his sudden movement) before reappearing with two cups and two towels from the bathroom.

"What are the cups for?" Erina asked.

"Well, if we have tea, it's kind of a waste to just throw it out," Sōma said with an easy grin. He poured the tea out, holding the top of the teapot down with a single finger.

"You pour tea like a woman," Erina said with a sniff. Sōma stiffened for a short moment before putting the pot down.

"I guess that I do," he said simply. Erina raised an eyebrow at his lack of reaction. She raised the cup of tea to her mouth skeptically and inhaled the tea's fresh scent before taking a small sip. Sōma took the tea bag out of the pot and put a fresh one in. He held up the used tea bag with its string and gestured for Erina to take it. She did so with more reluctance, but was fuelled by her curiosity.

"What do I do with this?" Erina asked, looking at what would have been thrown out with a disgusted expression.

"Put it on the place with a bruise," Sōma said as though it was obvious.

Erina redirected her reluctant glance from the tea bag to Sōma's earnest golden eyes. "You're kidding me."

"I'm not," Sōma said, all traces of humor gone and replaced with confusion. "Why would I kid about this?"

"You want me to put a used tea bag on my head."

"Well, yeah. It helps the bruising."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life," Erina muttered.

"I'm sure Alice would have an explanation for you if you asked her," Sōma responded. He took the other tea bag out of the pot, inspected it, and began to roll his sleeve up. Before Erina could fully question what he was doing, he had carefully arranged it on his arm, precisely where he had identified a forming bruise prior.

"You're not joking about this, are you."

"I've already said that I'm not, Erina," Sōma's voice actually showed some of his exasperation rather than just the light-hearted comment that he usually made.

"I still don't believe you."

Sōma glanced up from his arm. "It works. That's all I've got to say."

"Who told you this? The local senile apothecary woman in your village?" Erina snapped at him, flinging the tea bag down. "Forget this. I'll send in an order for some cream or something."

She stood up from the chair and flicked her hair over her shoulder, making for the door. Just as she opened it and stepped out, she felt something cold and dripping bounce off of her head. Erina turned around to see what Sōma had done now, her pride pinching her nerves even more.

He was actually angry. Fuming mad, enraged, completely furious, etcetera. She had never seen him so worked up in her entire history of knowing him. Frankly, the fire in his eyes, blazing like miniature golden suns, scared her.

She looked down. He had thrown the tea bag she rejected at her. He had hit her in the back of the head with a tea bag.

Her own anger flared up. _Who do you think you are?!_ her mind screamed as she registered the ignominy of being beaned in the head with a used tea bag. "What the hell, Yukihira-kun?" Suddenly, saying 'Yukihira', suffix or no, seemed cumbersome and just didn't seem to fit the red-haired young man she knew.

"Get out."

Erina blinked at the monotone command. Sōma's voice, usually so bouncy and bubbly, had been ground into a gravelly tone in his anger.

"So―"

"Did I stutter?" he snarled.

"Sōma, what is with you?" she demanded, her own pride, her hated, hated pride, flaring up within her, tearing words out of her throat before she could realize what she was saying.

"Get out of my sight," Sōma responded ferociously, stomping over to the door, practically shoving her the rest of the way out, and making to slam it shut. Erina swiftly grabbed the door handle before he could do so.

"Sōma, explain yourself," she said.

"Fuck off, Nakiri." The dismissal, both its crude vocabulary and the blatant, deliberate use of her last name, shocked Erina enough for her hand to loosen on the door handle, giving Sōma an opportunity to close his door this time.

Erina turned to go back to her room when she noticed something in the corner of her eye. She looked back and saw Akira watching her, his face betraying no emotion except for his raised eyebrows.

"What are you looking at, Hayama-san?" Erina snapped.

"Yukihira-kun sent me an email about some spices that I might want to try using," Akira said, holding his phone with the aforementioned email, complete with fitting emoticons:

 _Heyy, Akira! Pops sent me some expensive spices and stuff that I can't use._ ヾ(oﾟωﾟo)ﾉﾞ _Anyhow, did you want some? I can't think of anyone else who would be interested, heehee_ (〃･ิ‿･ิ)ゞ

Erina blinked as she saw the happy-go-lucky Sōma she was so used to shining out of his email.

Akira's response was much more succinct:

 _I'm heading over to your room right now to see what you've got._

The phone buzzed with a new email, but before Erina could see who it was from Akira deftly locked his phone's screen and shoved it back into his pocket.

"So, what were you two doing in there? Must not have gone well," Akira commented, gesturing towards the closed door.

"He's being childish," Erina said with a sniff. Somehow, her words sounded hollow, even to herself.

"I assumed," Akira said with some degree of amusement. "Was he going to help treat your bruise with something?"

"He wanted me to put a tea bag on my face."

"Green tea?"

Erina blinked. "You know of that method?"

Akira scratched the back of his head self-consciously. "It's not a very high-class method, I'll admit, but it's got a legitimate reason why it works. Something about tannic acids and such. You'll have to ask your cousin if you want the unabridged explanation."

"That's exactly what Yukihira-kun said. Somehow, I think I'll pass on that, thanks," Erina said dryly. "Alice is enough to deal with when you don't get her gastronomy involved or admit that you don't know something she does."

"Fair enough," Akira responded with a shrug.

Erina felt more and more uncomfortable as each moment with Akira passed. She could still remember every one of his words from the night before.

 _"Why should you care?"_

 _"I shouldn't. But you should."_

The words rang through her ears, each echo resonating with the increasing mortification she felt in her heart. Damn her pride.

Erina excused herself from the conversation with Akira, saying in vague terms something about leaving him to ask Sōma about the spices. She walked to her door (why was her room right next to his, oh God?) and opened it with a deft flick of her fingers. Erina wandered into her room, barely noticing that the door wasn't closed all the way, and flung herself onto the bed. The small damp patch in her hair was still noticeable, reminding her of the entire incident. She groaned and hid her face with two hands, uncertain of what else to do.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Sōma had shown Akira the spices and given him a large grin and the box. It was only when the door closed behind the white-haired chef that Sōma's grin slid off of his face and he gained a despondent expression. He nearly walked into the chair as he turned around, but when it fell over with a loud _THUD!_ he didn't particularly care enough to pick it back up.

Sōma saw the tea bag he had thrown at Erina in a moment of blind rage. He didn't bother to go and pick it up off of the ground, deciding to just stare at it instead. That tea bag represented everything he had to fight in order to get to his position: the defeater of his father in culinary battle (after five hundred and seventeen hard-fought battles, he reminded himself), First Seat on the Elite Ten, winner of a record number of Shokugeki in a given student's career at Tōtsuki. It was what he fought for. Or, at least, it symbolized what it was he fought for.

"Local senile apothecary woman," Sōma muttered to himself, an ironic grin somehow finding its way onto his face. The comment reminded him of both conversations that he saw or heard Erina and Akira share. It was odd to him; they had been each other's fiercest rivals in school, and seeing them act so friendly to one another was an odd sensation. A small nagging part of him pestered him, whispering about how it might have been _more_ than friendly talk between the two, but he couldn't really tell those kinds of emotions apart.

Eventually, Sōma's anger did run out and he felt himself more than a little sorry for his actions towards Erina. He bit his lip as he thought before coming across an idea. He found his pot buried in his luggage and took it out, wiping it off with a washcloth and starting to beat a bowl of eggs.

About thirty minutes later, Sōma had a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a bowl of his transforming furikake rice in the other. He somehow managed to hold the two in his left hand while he knocked on the door with his other. Much to his surprise, the door opened while he knocked, the room beckoning Sōma in.

Of course, he had more manners than that.

"Erina?" he called out. He heard a muffled squeak and someone bustling around inside the room before Erina appeared at the door. Her hair was disheveled, her bangs a mess, and her clothes were wrinkled, as if she had been lying still for a long time.

"What do you want, Yukih-iya?" she snapped at him, her violet eyes flashing with distrust.

"Look, I..." Sōma's voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't really mean anything I said just..." He blew out a gust of air. "Something you said kind of got to me and I overreacted."

Erina looked at him silently before glancing down at his peace offering. Her gaze softened slightly and she stepped away from the door before heading back in. She was halfway to her table (it hadn't been moved from the wall) when she realized that Sōma was still awkwardly standing in the hallway.

"Well, come on in, you idiot," she barked at him. Sōma immediately stepped inside and easily closed the door with a foot. He walked over to the table where Erina was already sitting and placed the filled porcelain in his hands on the table.

"I'm just going to leave now," he said awkwardly. "You don't have to bother with the dishes. I can grab them from you any time. I don't really care."

"Wait, Sōma." The emphasis on his first name made the red-haired chef pause and turn around, confused as to why Erina had called him back.

"Wh-why did you get so angry when I commented on your apothecary woman?" she flinched back slightly, as if predicting his wrath. "I mean, it was kind of mean of me to say that about her. I'm sure she was a very nice woman." She hoped that her words were more than poised enough to defuse any situation.

Sōma was silent for a moment longer than Erina thought he would be. Just when she thought he would just leave without another word, Sōma spoke.

"In the end, she _was_ just another senile apothecary woman, but my mother wasn't very old when she had to leave."

Erina was struck speechless as she watched the red-haired young man walk out of the room and close the door behind him.

Seconds later, she heard a knock on the door. When she opened it, it was Sōma again, this time looking much more sheepish than anything.

"Can I borrow your card for a sec? My door's jammed by something."

Erina blinked uncomprehendingly before handing her card key over. In a few seconds, Sōma had opened the lock on his door by sliding the card through the crack between the door and the doorway and passed it back to her after hearing a _click_. "Thanks."

He strode through the door, leaving her to go back to her room as well. Erina glanced at the bowl of rice, now golden with egg and melted chicken fat, and it briefly crossed her mind that it was still only the second day of Camp and that she would have to deal with Sōma as a neighbor for at least three more days.

For some reason, she didn't feel as bothered by that concept as she once had.

* * *

 **The amount of stuff I wanted to write into this chapter was... how shall I put it? Excessive. I was going to add in a little thing about what Rajya, Umiko, and Kaede made but after writing out those two dishes I just didn't feel the same urge to write them out.**

 **My characterization of Satoshi is based on how his personality seem to slip back and forth between a benevolent senpai who loves all of his kouhai and one of the most cut-throat of chefs who can see potential in a heartbeat. Also, only a cat would have fun slipping around in the ceiling, I think.**

 **So. Much. Sōma. And. Erina. Geez. I hope this is more than enough to satisfy you in terms of shipping for the chapter xD**

 **Also Alice has been mentioned three times in this chapter without even being part of this Camp as an alumna. I... have no excuses as to why. She's just the go-to girl for knowing why things happen gastronomically, I guess.**

 **The second day hasn't even ended yet! There is one last challenge for this day, but give me a bit to recover from this intense chapter and then start on the next one xD**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-Shriayle**


	9. NIGHT 2: DINNER BUFFET

**As refreshing as it was to take a break, I'm ready to go back to writing now :) So here, have a task not really run by any one specific alumni~**

 **REPLIES:**

 **NefCanuck:** Satoshi is a wonderful character because all of his stupid ideas and actions are canon and it's great :P Aaaand yep. Sōma is extremely chill except when he's around Erina and when someone brings up his mom, insult or nah. Erina managed to do both and in the worst way possible. Good job, girl. | **XD (Guest):** Ahhhh let's just say it's been building up for a while since there were earlier hints about why he blew up. It was rather out of character for him, I will say. Which is why Erina is more than a little scared/confused by it. | **FieryDarkWraith:** agh even 3000 words dedicated to Sōma/Erina wasn't enough? darn it. I only work on one story at a time, usually, so it's much easier for me to dedicate my time to sit down and write about this world I've come up with. Satoshi as a cat only works for his quirks and personality, I will admit. He does what he's passionate about best, I guess :P and awwwww thanks for liking this random idea so much! I appreciate it :D | **Demon Damian:** Satoshi is leaving that trick for a later date. (coughcoughspoilerscoughfifthdayfinaltaskcough) The next tester? *evil cackles* And YES SOMEONE ELSE NOTICED THE BRAVE NEW WORLD COINCIDENCE. Erina needs actual soma to deal with Sōma, to be completely honest. | **Cat McHall:** Erina knows that Sōma's opinion of her has probably changed a bit when she said what she did. | **hugp1x:** Sorry 'bout that. To be fair, they've grown up now, so having any of them completely unchanged would kinda ruin the purpose of the fic idea. | **Anonymous (Guest):** They haven't had the tasks that showcased them the best yet. I know that sounds confusing, but you'll see. I have around eight students to get to, and the tasks that I chose to be earlier in the story ended up featuring only the female students. | **Agnew (Guest):** ahhhh i try with the fast updating ;w; that intense word-count will probably not be replicated until much later, though. | **Neroj:** What you say is true :D I'm not sure if Erina is going to even consider getting that drunk or if Sōma would feel comfortable going 'too far' when both are in that state. He was taught well by his dad :) And yep, that teapot thing was one of a few hints I dropped about his mother. I will say that there is at least one more I hid away in a previous chapter, but it was a throwaway and not really something you would associate with a maternal figure ^^" Satoshi is my favorite character, hands down, to write and to just see. He is the most ridiculous person in the entire bunch, doesn't care what others say even when he walks around practically naked, and jumps out of ceilings in his spare time. Technically, he came out of the ceiling wearing only the apron, but somehow threw the rest of his clothes on as he fell from the tiles. I'm not actually sure how he did it, but if he can magically lose all of his clothes within seconds, he sure as heck can put them back on with just as little difficulty. I am in no way a master chef xD I'm not even in culinary school, nor do I plan to go. I usually look up recipes by specialty in Google, Wikipedia cultural foods (that's where I got the korokke idea tbh), or ask my friends who like cooking/my mother how certain things are made. Surprisingly, they don't question why I want to know. Some recipes are partially made up though; I have no idea about how Umiko's sauce turned out, but since all of the squid-ink based pasta I saw online had no sauce, I feel like she would try adding one on as an experiment and then just go from there. That's how the Shokugeki no Sōma universe seems to work, anyhow. But most of the recipes are based on real ones I found posted on random websites, yes.| **Laury Rose:** Sōma lost his temper. Scary scary. Erina has no idea what the word 'apology' even means, unfortunately. I think Nene's expression on the last panel of 118.15 sums up all of the alumni's collective opinion of Satoshi's antics. Just a face of literal DEATH BE UNTO YOU. | **Ken18 (Guest):** ahhhhh thank you! | **Hinoiri Lwin:** Thank you for reading it! This was such a spontaneous thing on my part, so I'm happy that people like it ;w;

* * *

Before the next challenge (one of the two bigger ones that the students were subjected to, actually), as he stood behind a counter with a few other alumni, Akira noticed that he had received a new email. Wondering if Jun needed help with explaining her latest lecture topic, he nonchalantly glanced at the screen of his phone, trying not to draw attention.

His heart started thudding. It was from a woman, yes, but not the one he thought it would be. Strangely, he didn't mind who it was that had sent it.

"Yo, Akira-san! You doing okay over there?" Sōma walked over and made to sling his arm around Akira's shoulders, but the dark-skinned chef hurriedly locked his phone again and batted the errant arm away.

"Leave me alone, Yukihira-kun," he grunted. "And since when did you use suffixes, anyhow?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Akira," the red-haired chef responded, giving up on trying to grab Akira's shoulders and just crossing his arms across his chest. Akira prayed that he would turn around and maybe heckle the other alumni more, but as luck would have had it, his phone lit up in another email. Before he could hide the name from Sōma, the Japanese-born chef blinked and gave him a sly grin.

"Lookit you, Akira, scoring with the girls," he chortled.

"Leave before I make animelles out of you," Akira said in a threatening monotone. Sōma's grin just grew wider as he held his hands up in a 'surrender' position, backing away from his irate colleague.

"Alright, listen up!"

The students in the room looked over at the alumnus that had shouted over their conversations. The blond man suddenly looked extremely nervous, but he soldiered on after recomposing himself.

"Welcome to your first 'large' challenge!" Takumi said, holding his arms open in a grandiose gesture. "This task won't take you a couple hours. Rather, it will last until you complete it or until the rush is over."

"Rush?" "What is he talking about?" "Who _is_ he, again?" "You're serious."

The quiet murmurs that started up again made all of the nervous adrenaline rush back through Takumi, and he coughed once in irritation, feeling an embarrassed blush begin to creep across his face. A snigger drifted from somewhere behind him, but all Takumi could do was mutter a "Shut up, Yukihira," under his breath and try yet again.

"For those of you who are unaware, I am Aldini Takumi, one of the co-owners of Trattoria Aldini and a member of the 92nd Generation. This task is what we alumni have been affectionately referring to as the 'Dinner Buffet' challenge."

Murmurs arose from the crowd of students again.

"You are in charge of four different dishes that will be served here for the patrons," Takumi explained. "Each have different preparation times, cooking times, and serving times. You must ensure that your food is always available and always fresh enough to eat. I have three of my alumni colleagues with me to make sure that you stay on task. Two of us will be in the kitchen supervising you while the other two will be watching the patrons outside. Be warned; we aren't the only alumni taking part in this task."

Upon seeing the startled and confused looks, Takumi glanced over to the final of the four alumni. Noticing his signal, she stepped forward.

"Hello everyone," she said with a wave and a warm smile. "My name is Tadokoro Megumi and I will be the final judge this evening. I am not one of the alumni that agreed to come in the beginning of the week, as I'm still training under another's tutelage, but I have come here to judge how well you know how to serve the patrons the food they are looking for. Now, what Aldini-san said about the other alumni is not as complicated as you all seem to think."

Her golden gaze, complete with their typical comforting warmth, swept over the students' faces. "Mixed in with the patrons will be the other alumni. If they come across something that they believe isn't satisfactory, you will be issued a strike. If you earn five strikes, I'm afraid you'll have to go home. However, if a customer mentions to one of the staff that they liked a particular student's dish, or if a customer is seen going back more than three times for one specific student's cooking, that student shall be awarded a merit. This merit can neutralize a strike and, if you had no strikes to begin with, it will be taken into consideration in any rankings after the Camp ends. Finally, if you haven't finished preparing at least twenty of each recipe item by the time the last customers go home, you will be dismissed."

Takumi cleared his throat loudly as the murmuring (again) began to rise. "We are very fortunate that Tadokoro-san was able to come out here, and we are hoping that you will capitalize on this opportunity to show us what you can do."

"The dinner rush will start in approximately one hour," Sōma said. "You have that time to analyze the recipe cards we've laid out for you and begin any kind of prep work you think you need. If you have any questions, do not be afraid to ask any of us."

"You have been assigned plates to use as well," Akira added. "You are not allowed to use any other students' plates in this time. These plates will be used to take note of your merits― as well as your strikes."

"If there aren't any basic questions now," Takumi said as a last note, "then please look at the recipes distributed to your stations and begin your preparations."

The students immediately snapped out of their lecture-induced semi-comas and began to pour over the recipes. Most were stumbling, grabbing the wrong plates and utensils before giving them back with long-winded apologies and taking the correct ones. The ones at the pantry were scrutinizing the tiny font that dotted the recipe cards.

"Told you we shouldn't have given such long speeches about rules and stuff," Sōma grumbled.

Takumi felt himself begin to grow redder with each passing second. "Yukihira-kun, that's not any of your concern. If they didn't want to listen to our instructions, then they don't deserve to graduate."

"Graduate? They're first-years, Aldini-san," Megumi said with an amused expression.

"First-years or no, they need to aim for the top," Takumi said, feeling himself getting worked up over the situation. "We started our journey to the Elite Ten in first year! They need that same level of dedication!"

"I thought you went to Tōtsuki as a middle-schooler," Sōma deadpanned.

"He did," Megumi and Akira confirmed in unison.

"Th-that's a minor detail," Takumi said, trying to play it off.

They lapsed into silence, watching the students cook and wincing as some managed to burn themselves on splashes of boiling water. "Why did you have us memorize the things we had to say, Aldini-san?" Akira asked, breaking a three-minute long quiet.

"Because I wanted to make sure that we all remembered everything we had to say," Takumi said firmly, standing by his former decision.

"Why did you give me the longest part?" Megumi asked with a slight, uncharacteristic grumble. "I had to memorize it on the airplane here from Paris. That wasn't fun at all."

"How's your thing with Shinomiya-senpai going, anyways?" Sōma asked, leaning back in his chair and balancing on the two back legs to look around Takumi at her.

"Oh, it's fantastic," Megumi said, her eyes lighting up in excitement. "Do you remember the recette that I made for him in first year, Sōma-kun?"

"The one from the Shokugeki?" Sōma asked, not sure where she was going.

"Yes, that one. So I found out when I started working that he took some of my ideas and incorporated it into his dishes for Shino's! I had to teach the entire cooking staff how to sun-dry tomatoes to retain their sweetness. It was hard work, since some of them had never even tried sun-dried tomatoes before, but it was completely worth it, in my opinion. And now, we're including more traditional vegetables and preserves in our menu! I'm so excited to be there to see the world of cooking open up to small-town flavors. And Paris is a beautiful city; I've been to the Louvre so many times already! The art would inspire someone like you, Sōma-kun, and I think Akira-san would like the open-air markets."

Takumi blinked. "That's the most I've ever heard you say at once," he commented.

Megumi just smiled at him in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

All four alumni glanced up in unison to see an unknown boy in front of them. His skin appeared to be a pale tone that had been tanned from working in the sun all day, and his hair was a jet black that seemed to absorb all of the light in the room. He wore the usual chef's uniform that many Tōtsuki students wore, and his wide eyes were a shade of hazel that seemed at once memorable and easily forgettable.

"Yes, ah, Shen-kun, right?"

"Yes, chef," the boy said. "Are we allowed to personalize our dishes, or are we forced to follow the recettes?"

" 'Recettes?' Man, Shinomiya-senpai is really spreading his influence this year," Sōma muttered.

Megumi giggled at his antics.

"You may do whatever you wish to the recipes if you feel it will make them taste better," Akira clarified for the confused student.

"I-I see. Thank you, Chef Hayama," the student said, bowing to the white-haired chef before walking back to his station and pulling out another bowl to start mixing something up.

"So now they can butcher our dishes," Takumi grumbled. "Great."

"Hey, you should have answered first, oh 'leader-of-the-task'," Sōma said lightheartedly, not needing to mark his quotation marks with his fingers.

"I trust Hayama-san's judgment," Takumi muttered to him, rolling his eyes.

"I hope you do," Akira responded in the same tone of voice, his eyes distracted by the lit up screen of his phone in his pocket. When he looked back up, Sōma was giving him a very suggestive look accompanied by his signature smirk. Akira then muttered something about eavesdropping idiot artists who don't appreciate privacy under his breath.

Takumi checked the watch he had on his left wrist. He stood up and clapped loudly to get the students' attentions for a few seconds.

"Alright, everyone! You have fifteen minutes until the predicted dinner rush. If you have any dishes already prepared, please place them on the white counters for the waiters to pick up and distribute across the dining area."

On cue, about twenty or so employees in waiter uniforms appeared from stainless steel doors and began walking through the rows, collecting dishes as they went. Akira and Megumi had slipped out into the dining room at that point, leaving only Sōma and Takumi behind to make sure that all of the dishes were correct.

"Please give these back to the student in question," Takumi said, gesturing to about four dishes with the same red borders. "The portions are off."

"Of course, sir," the waitress promptly responded, passing the tray with the other food to Sōma, who duly walked out with the other waiters and distributed the food on the buffet counter-slash-table that the Tōtsuki Resort had before handing the tray back to the waitress.

"Do not become complacent," Sōma called out as he reentered. "Dinner rush in restaurants are usually around thirty minutes long, but don't forget that you are in Tōtsuki Resort. The dinner rush is much more intense here, and is projected to last anywhere from sixty to ninety minutes."

The students all buckled down to work even harder, determined to survive the task. Takumi quickly told Sōma that he was going to walk around the kitchen and watch the students and that if the red-haired chef even thought of being helpful once, he would do the same. Sōma just rolled his eyes, laughed it off, and proceeded to do exactly what Takumi suggested. As Takumi began to berate a student in the east half of the kitchen loudly enough for all of the students to understand that he had forgotten to add just enough garlic to produce a tangible bite in the sauce of his special parmesan dish. Sōma just sighed before moving on, and his nonchalant attitude at Takumi's blow-up seemed to reassure students and let them continue working.

Just as Takumi demanded that the student start over, Sōma called over to him. "T―er, Aldini-san, you're not the one judging the food this time. Let the patrons expel him."

The student gaped openly at Sōma, obviously despairing at what Takumi seemed to construe as his failure, but when Takumi turned back around, grumbling as he stalked off to terrorize another student, Sōma gave the student a discreet thumbs-up, giving him the encouragement to plate the dish.

Sōma continued his rounds, watching students fumble and warning them of possible fire hazards. He didn't see any reason to criticize their cooking. After all, if they couldn't succeed, the resulting punishment would be the same anyhow. When asked about how to complete a specific step, Sōma made sure to just shrug and give the vaguest instructions possible so that none of the students had any advantage over another. After about fifteen minutes of the students plating and starting new servings, a waiter approached Takumi and whispered in his ear.

The blond chef turned and called out, "Shen Adrian! You have earned the first merit of the Challenge."

The black-haired boy froze in his work, his eyes widening as he realized what the alumnus was saying. He didn't make an audible sound of joy, instead choosing to nod his head, determined to continue the streak.

Sōma wandered back over to Takumi. "Which method?" he asked, making it look as though he wasn't speaking at all.

Takumi didn't even glance at him, instead training his stare on a hapless student who was currently burning something and frantically turning the stove off and back on in an attempt to regain control of the situation. "One of the others approved. Wasn't told who."

"Makes sense," Sōma said as he casually walked away.

It was no surprise to any that Adrian ended up being the first to finish his servings and left a good thirty minutes before dinner rush even showed signs of slowing.

"Looks like Dojima-senpai will have someone to talk to this year, too," Sōma commented to Takumi.

"Does he still do that?" Takumi asked, blinking.

"Well, I haven't seen him out there yet" (he gestured towards the door leading to the dining room) "and since he's usually all whatever about doing his own thing when we're in charge, I'm going to guess he's off bathing, as he usually does around this time."

"That makes sense, I think," Takumi said, grudgingly accepting Sōma's logic. "I wonder how the others are doing."

* * *

"That's the fifth dish with that border that's been sent back."

"Hayama-san, are you only complaining because that's your recette?"

The white-haired chef glared slightly at the blue-haired woman next to him. "Of course not. It's just a disgrace."

"Well, that same student has excelled in at least two other dishes. I believe they are mine and Takumi's recettes. They won't be getting expelled today."

Akira watched with unabashed anger as yet another of the dishes based on his recipe was taken away for sitting out too long. "What's so hard about cooking glazed chicken with the proper proportion of spices?" he muttered under his breath. "It's a waste of food. And none of the aromas are strong enough to draw patrons in, the way the dish is supposed to be."

"Probably the fact that your nose is a lot better than theirs. You can't expect too much from the students, even if they're enrolled in Tōtsuki. We've had years of experience to build up our repertoire while they learned how to debone a fish," Megumi replied.

"Tadokoro-chaaaaaan!" Megumi had five seconds to look up before Inui, dressed in an extremely fashionable white dress, ran up to her and grabbed her hands. "I heard that you were working for that pink-haired demon! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he make you cry? I'll make him cry if he did. Oh, your hands! They've got scars and calluses all over them! Is he making you cook too much?"

"Inui-senpai," Akira mumbled, glancing around at the confused patrons that were staring in their direction. "You're making a scene."

"I don't care!" Inui responded in what was practically a shout. "My little Tadokoro is being abused by that evil man and I will sto―AI!"

Shinomiya had approached them and, as usual, smacked her swiftly across the back of the head.

"Kojiro-senpaaaiiiii," Inui groaned as she held her pounding head. "You always hit me in the same spot..."

"Stop being annoying to my apprenti and I'll stop," Shinomiya responded with a roll of his eyes. He glanced back over to his latest apprentice, who was watching the exchange with a guarded amusement. "Tadokoro-chan. I trust that the flight wasn't too much of a hassle."

"Of course not," Megumi said with a friendly smile. "No jet lag as of yet. I'll probably find myself struggling later on tonight, but it shouldn't be too much of a problem, since I'm due back to Shino's by tomorrow at noon, CET."

Shinomiya nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. "I'm glad to see that you're not shirking your responsibilities and staying around."

"Of course not. I'll be returning here in a few days, once you're arrived back at the restaurant, so there's no purpose in delaying."

"Good work. I'll see you then."

Megumi bowed to her boss as he dragged Inui away, checking his cufflinks as he walked off.

"There's an... interesting dynamic between those two." Akira felt like he had to say it.

Megumi giggled. "Yes, it's quite amusing, isn't it?" She sighed slightly. "Well, too bad we're not here to analyze my boss's odd friendships, but to make sure that the students who deserve to pass do."

"Do you remember going through this Camp yourself?" Akira asked as they observed the dining patrons enjoying their meals.

"Of course. Every moment of Tōtsuki passes my mind almost daily," Megumi responded. "I was terrified for my life, my reputation, and my cooking. I was so unconfident that I hid behind one of my friend's cooking rather than letting myself blaze my own path. It took nearly getting us both expelled for me to realize that I had something worthy of the world to see, and even after I got back to Polar Star, I still didn't believe I could do it."

"And now that's all changed," Akira finished for her.

Megumi smiled up at him. "Of course. All things must change as time passes," she said serenely.

Akira was about to respond to that when he noticed a hand waving in the air. He casually walked over and bowed in deference to the person waving.

"Ah, Hayama-san!" the flustered man said as his face flushed slightly. "You don't need to bow to me! I'm not that great! I just wanted to make sure that everything was going well, that's all!"

"Tsukasa-senpai," Akira muttered, shaking his head slightly at the frazzled alumnus. "Is that all?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" He waved his hand through the air as if trying to calm himself with the action alone. The other three alumni at his table (Ikumi, Satoshi, and Terunori) all just ignored Tsukasa, but the other patrons sitting elsewhere were visibly amused at the man's flustered motions. "I just wanted to award a merit." He gestured to the plate of barely eaten food in front of him. Akira noted the fresh vegetables, the tart cheese, the round, tanned bread. It was an elevated flatbread of sorts. After about ten seconds of analyzing the dish, Tsukasa's words finally registered in Akira's mind.

Akira blinked. "It's been ten minutes into rush."

Tsukasa immediately lost all of his apparent nerves. "Whoever has made this dish knows what they're doing when it comes to bending the recipe and utilizing all of their power to bring forth the best in what they use in order to convey the flavors they want to. The vegetables are still crunchy and fresh, even though this obviously didn't just leave the kitchen, and the hummus has what I believe are pine nuts ground into it as well. The composition and presentation are practically flawless, though the chef could have used more salty ingredients to heighten the experience further." He immediately snapped up as soon as he finished talking, his eyes growing wide with worry again. "O-of course, that's just my opinion! It might not even be right! Hahaha..."

It took Akira an inordinate amount of willpower not to start an argument with Tsukasa on how his opinion was one of the most valued among all of the alumni, since he was a former First Seat.

"Lighten up, Tsukassan!" Terunori chirped, leaning over to steal some of Tsukasa's food, ignoring the older man's protests. He put a morsel into his mouth and immediately his face lit up. "Wow, this kid really knows what he's doing! It's practically perfect in every way!"

"Have you been watching American movies again, Kuga-san?" Satoshi asked, smiling benevolently as usual.

Ikumi didn't know what she could add onto the statements about the food or the movie, so she just quietly kept eating.

"Erm, I'll inform the others in the back to let the student know," Akira said uneasily.

"Thanks, Haya-kun!" Terunori called out, oblivious to Akira's irritation at the pet name. As he walked away, he let one of the waiters know to tell Takumi about the student's dish. He was stopped by a few non-alumni patrons as he walked back to his post, and he made sure to exchange casual words with all of them before he made it back.

"I'm assuming that went well," Megumi said, smiling.

"Extremely. Two different alumni approved of one student's dish."

"Ooh, lucky student there. Do you think Tsukasa-senpai or Kuga-senpai will try to recruit them?"

Akira snorted. "Tsukasa-senpai or Kuga-senpai? The dish was based on your recipe. There wasn't any semblance of spiciness added, so I'm sure that Kuga-senpai doesn't really care for their style. I'm not even sure how Tsukasa-senpai managed to organize his own restaurant and doesn't just work as a private chef somewhere."

"He's probably working to build up his résumé," Megumi concluded.

Akira blinked a couple of times. "I never considered that."

"The only reason I thought of it is that many of Shinomiya-bosu's chefs work under him for the same reason," the woman responded. "Oh, looks like another patron has something to say. I'll go see what it is this time."

* * *

 **On Akira's threat: animelles are a variant on the dish 'mountain oysters'. Mountain oysters are pretty much bull testicles. Yep. That's a thing.**

 **yes I ship Akira with someone but it'll probably just become more of a formal partnership-friendship thing. no, it's not Jun. frankly, that pairing kind of intimidates me since Jun was like thirty-something when Akira was fifteen. that's just a big no-no in my brain. By the way, I'm not sure how people will like the way my brain works, but in this fandom, I've noticed myself pairing people together by how well their cooking harmonizes with one another's. Sooooo a lot of the 'ships' are more pseudo than anything and form out of admiration for another's work. Just getting that out there before I get anything negative about the pairings I chose.**

 **Also, in case you're wondering, Megumi uses the word 'recette' because she's been around Shinomiya for years now, Adrian just picked it up because his class before the Challenge happened to be Shinomiya's, and no one else says 'recette' because why would you speak French if you aren't in France. That's the only reason why everyone else is saying 'recipe'. Another technicality is that I do not know for the life of me how to name someone in a Japanese style if they are 'above' you in your work position. I think Shinomiya-bosu is the closest I can get? If someone could clarify that I would be very grateful.**

 **As usual, I will be answering any questions from your reviews :D Also, if I ever get more than 15 reviews in all, I'm going to start PMing responses because typing them out here increases the word count wayyy too much. I'll still answer to Guest reviews on chapters, though~**

 **-Shriayle**


	10. NIGHT 2: INTERLUDE

**The typically mandatory info-dump chapter here. This will most likely be the most boring chapter of this entire story. I don't really like putting these in, but there's barely any way for me to give you the knowledge of this universe without doing one of these. Next chapter will be guaranteed to be both longer and much more interesting, as one of the alumni of our favorite Generation will be leading the next session :D**

 **Also! Announcement: I will now confirm a prequel for this story and offer to you a possible sequel, making these stories into either a series of two or a trilogy. The prequel will cover the 92nd Generation's third year, including the record number of Shokugeki which I'm sure you want to see, and also go into some of the relationships that have already been established by the time this story started (i.e. Megumi working with Shinomiya, what happened with Akira and Jun, etc.). The possible sequel (threequel?) will cover the next generation of Tōtsuki students (AKA their children). I'm still uncertain about this because it will probably be exclusively OCs and I'm not really supportive of that, but we'll see if that idea morphs over time.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Demon Damian:** That book is one of the few that I enjoyed reading in school :P The Sōma/Erina is slowly petering down mostly because Sōma is kind of avoiding Erina now in a sense? You'll see what I mean later. I never really thought about shipping Takumi with anyone because he's a pain in the butt in my opinion, and Ikumi's infatuation with Sōma is still hilarious to me xD Though she has long since outgrown it in this story! I slid a little Sōma/Erina because you asked for it :T Not really anything profound, though. | **C-san:** I update as fast as I can write n_n Sometimes that's super quick, sometimes it takes me a couple of weeks to muster enough inspiration to start up writing again. And Erina's task is far in the future. Sorry~ | **NefCanuck:** I don't know what made Takumi so annoying. I always preferred Isami :T And I imagine Megumi gave the speech with a warm smile that made everyone ignore the very decent threat that was underlying her words. It's her secret weapon of sorts, I guess. | **Agnew (Guest):** I keep up however I can. Erina is a hard girl to capture, I'll say that much. | **Cat McHall:** I draw inspiration from Inui not making Megumi do the 'I'm a loser' thing from the original canon Camp xD | **Neroj:** I see your critique and thank ye for the input :D That section will be edited as soon as there is a canon showing of how Eishi reacts to others' cooking. He has complete confidence in his own flavors, yes, but I can easily see him doubting his own opinion or the way he expresses his opinion when it comes to judging others' food. I just can't write Shinomiya-sama with a straight face, especially coming from Megumi xD Aaaand I've been taking more requests for this chapter because I had no idea what else to put in it, so here's Sōma with yet another disgusting dish! I also didn't mention this, but the strikes can be for literally anything and they're considered valid because usually it's the alumni that are dealing them out. Each strike also doesn't count in the dish counter, so they had to serve eighty servings, all of them perfect by the alumni's standards, all within the dinner rush with no buff guys to help them eat all of the food. It's a rather intense assignment, I'd say. | **Just a guest (Guest):** Ahhhhh that anime is on my queue :'D I have no time to watch the anime I want to... And I don't think Sōma's going to be getting a sibling in this story, sorry! It's a bit too hard to weave it in, at this point. Maybe another time? | **Hinoiri Lwin:** I'm going to have to disagree with you on that ship xD I haven't been able to catch up on Etoile yet, but I always thought of Shinomiya being Inui's grumpy big brother that's actually really protective of her on the inside but acts ornery and grumpy whenever she does something airheaded. (i definitely ship shinomiya with another character though) (cough cough my pairings are so weird) (i don't think anyone else ships them) (apart from sōma/erina) | **Laury Rose:** You will get an answer to your question about Megumi in this chapter! Everyone's pointing out Erina's absence, but there's both a logical and storyline reason behind that. Takumi has no back-up plans, which makes it hard for him to recover when someone points out a mistake. Like Sōma loves to do. And Akira isn't really *dating* said person but he's just more than slightly interested in her ;) I always saw Jun as Akira's older sister that's always supporting everything and occasionally needs him to fix her messes for him with slight motherly worry because he apparently has no friends his age. | **Ken18 (Guest):** Megumi has changed quite a bit, actually, though I'm not getting into that quite yet. | **Gallian Squad 7:** Thanks for your enthusiastic honesty :D If at any time you think I'm failing at everything you just said, go ahead and tear me apart so I can go back and fix my errors~ And I feel like everyone except for the authors of the actual manga ships Sōma/Erina. And EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS WORLD was made so I could go back and change tiny things to make it more waterproof. I hope it's working .-. | **FoulIceQueen:** WHOO! WRITING! | **Blond Dude 42:** Welcome back to the insanity and overdramatic foodgasms that is the Shokugeki fandom :D This story is definitely going to be a lot longer than just 9 chapters, good sir. Aaaand I don't want to say anything about their third year quite yet, but I'll say one thing: Sōma has more than a sturdy foundation for his affection towards Erina and is even more determined than ever to prove himself to her. He's just oblivious to the first part of that statement. Erina's a stubborn girl who doesn't want to give Sōma what he wants. It's complicated and ruled by teenage hormones.

* * *

"Maaaaan, I'm pooped!" Terunori groaned as he threw himself onto a sofa in the lobby area. "We were there for HOURS!" The cushion of the sofa muffled his outburst slightly as he buried his face into the plush couch.

"We were only supposed to be there for about thirty minutes, Kuga-san," Satoshi tried to placate. "It's not anyone's fault that all of the patrons wanted to talk to the alumni at some points in time. It's almost something to be anticipated."

Meanwhile, a more excitable alumnus was in the middle of a self-induced nervous breakdown. "Ahhhh, I can't just talk to people about what I'm going to do! It just stresses me out so much. How am I supposed to focus on how I want to run my own restaurant when everyone else wants to know the details I don't know yet? I don't even know what kind of glasses I want to get! I need to choose between three different types of glasses! And is there a way to get personalized heating and cooling for each table? I can't live up to their expectations if I tell them huge plans I can't achieve right now," Tsubasa fussed, turning paler than his already practically white complexion as he pulled at his hair and paced around the room.

"Tsubasa-senpai, that shouldn't be too big of a deal," Akira tried to placate. "They don't need to know whatever it is you're planning. They shouldn't expect that from you."

The pale man just walked off towards his room, muttering about preparing more paperwork and getting ready for the next day.

"Lazy munchkin," Nene muttered to Terunori as she walked past, followed by a few of the other younger alumni. "Too bad you can't have the same work ethic as Tsubasa-senpai."

" _What was that?_ " The sprawled out chef slowly raised his face up and out of the chair to give her a death glare. Nene ignored him in favor of going to her room without talking to anyone else.

"Wow, this is nice," Megumi commented, looking around the expansive room with wonder in her eyes. "I can't believe that Dōjima-sama was thoughtful enough to give you such a nice floor. I remember just being in a hotel room, with no meeting spaces on the actual floors, as a student when we came here. And is that a perilla plant?" She practically ran over to the innocuous potted plant, one that the others had all ignored. She carefully lifted a leaf to her nose and inhaled deeply, sighing in pleasure at the fresh scent of the herb. "This must be well-kept! The leaf is healthy and the smell is just perfect."

"Yeah, Dōjima-san pulls out all of the stops when it comes to the alumni," Shinomiya commented, walking up behind Megumi. "So, any insanity happen after I left?"

"Hmm..." she turned around as she thought about the craziness that was Shino's. "Oh, that's right! Lapointe was trying to be you and order everybody around, but no one listened because they weren't sure whether to listen to your instructions to 'stay out of trouble and don't mess up' or to listen to him since he's the sous chef. The other chefs almost split in half out of their difference of opinions."

Shinomiya sighed. "That moron Lapointe. I'll have to straighten him out after this week," he grumbled under his breath.

"If you fire him, that's the fifth sous chef in the past three months you've gone through, sir," Megumi pointed out, ignoring the glare that Shinomiya then fixated her with and countermanding it with an innocent smile. "You should be careful before your reputation begins to take hits for it."

Before he could respond, Megumi heard someone call out her name from behind her. It was Sōma, who had immediately dashed into his room and reemerged with something in his hand. Why would he have a plastic container, a pair of chopsticks? Wait, this situation looked way too familiar for her liking.

"Heeey, Megumi-san! Do you want to try my newest dish?"

Yep. Exactly how she remembered.

"What's in it?" the woman asked cautiously.

"Am I really that bad?" he wondered rhetorically and aloud. He gave her a sly grin. "Come on, just try it out!" He shoved the container over towards her, conspicuously not answering her question.

"Sōma-san, we've known each other for almost a decade now, do you really think I'm going to fall for―" her words were cut off as Sōma picked up one of the unidentifiable ingredients, shoved the food into his own mouth, calmly chewed, and swallowed the morsel.

"See, not dangerous! Come on, just try it!"

"Don't do it!" Terunori called out dramatically from the couch. "Save yourself, Tadokoro-hida!"

Megumi decided to trust Sōma's judgment over Terunori's.

She immediately regretted her decision.

"YUKIHIRA SŌMA, WHAT THE HECK!" Megumi screamed, the food still barely chewed and sitting on the tip of her tongue as she frantically searched for a tissue to spit it out in.

Somehow Sōma managed to swallow another bit of it without flinching. "The dirt really adds a nice texture, don't you think?" he said conversationally, gritting his teeth in a forced grin.

"D-did you say... dirt?" Takumi stuttered out, staring at the container with a renewed disgust.

"Yep! Freshly harvested from the flowerbeds! I made sure that there was no fertilizer in it, don't worry about that," Sōma said while hiding a snigger behind the heel of his hand.

"Well, how are you eating it so easily?!" Takumi asked, staring in disbelief at the food in the container.

"There are some ginger pieces in there to clear your palate," Sōma explained. "I call it 'Roots in the Soil, Yukihira-style!'" The others didn't know whether to smack themselves or smack Sōma.

"Are you terrorizing everyone with your food again, Yukihira-kun?" Everyone in the room turned to see Erina walk out of the hall leading towards the baths. She was wearing a long yet simple bathrobe and had her hair carefully folded into a towel on her head, arms crossed across her chest. Sōma stiffened at the sight but had the decency to look her in the eyes and not elsewhere.

"Come on, Erina, it's not that bad," Sōma said, holding his arms out in a placating manner and nearly knocking the barely-food into the wall.

"Dirt?" she said, elongating the syllable to emphasize her disdain.

"It's full of essential minerals for the human body's development!" Sōma rattled off, beaming at her and giving her a thumbs-up. Erina shook her head, muttered something that sounded like "plebian boy" under her breath, and walked away. Sōma shrugged at her obvious indifference before turning back to his other peers, grinning somewhat sadistically.

"It's also full of worm crap," Ikumi commented, looking unimpressed and taking a fearful step back when Yukihira approached the small group while holding his food.

"You guys have no inspiration," Sōma complained loudly, holding the container in front of him in a way that should have made the food seem more enticing if it were anything but one of his concoctions.

"You have no taste buds," Akira retorted, pushing Sōma's hand out of the way in order to get to his room.

"Spoilsports, all of you," Sōma muttered, not bothering to hide his gleeful expression any longer. "I still got you to try it, Megumi. What're your opinions?"

"Never again will I eat anything you offer me," she responded earnestly, using the napkin in her hand to carefully dust off her tongue, minutes after she had spat it out.

"Even the good food?" Ikumi asked with some surprise.

"Even the good food." She checked her watch and gasped, saying, "I should get going. My plane will arrive in a couple of hours."

As the blue-haired chef waved her good-byes and left the lobby, only Sōma noticed the light that flashed off of her hand for a split second. The observation made his face split into a huge grin as he waved to Megumi with even more vigor than before.

* * *

"FINALLY!"

The pink-brunette flopped onto her friend's bed, groaning as she did so.

"Are you okay, Minami-san?" the friend in question asked.

"Do you know how long it took me to get that one chicken recipe down?" the girl bemoaned. "I'll tell you: too long! I'm sure whichever alumni assigned that one was ready to smack me across the face when he saw another one of my dishes get pulled off of the table because it wasn't fresh anymore!"

* * *

Meanwhile, a couple of floors away, Akira was inhaling the sharp, sweet scent of one of the cinnamon sticks that Sōma had given him when a cold chill ran up his spine. He shivered violently, nearly falling off of his chair as he did so. Akira squirmed for a second longer before glancing across the room, wondering what had made him feel so uncomfortable all of a sudden.

* * *

"We all struggled with that dish," the friend reminded her. She ran a hand through her dark hair, sinking deep into thought.

"You didn't," the pink-brunette grumbled. "I'm ready to die now," Umiko continued rambling on. "It's only been two days, and I don't think any of the chefs even acknowledged me. I mean, look at you! You've got at least two alumni in your corner! They love your cooking, Mun-san!"

Seoyun giggled at that. "Well, I will admit, I was surprised with how many of them seemed to genuinely like what I make."

Before Umiko could answer, someone knocked on the door. Seoyun didn't seem surprised by the interruption. She merely got up and opened it, glancing at who was outside.

"Oh, you guys are finally done," she said in an upbeat conversational tone.

"Speak for yourself, Mun-san," a boy muttered as he shoved past her. "I'm beat. The kid next to me got a strike because his plating was unbalanced. Who judges on that? Isn't it the flavors? I don't understand the alumni."

"Yamaguchi-san, you're not falling asleep in here or I'll have to tell one of the staff," Seoyun deadpanned.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Mun-san!" a girl said as she bounced in after him. Two other boys followed her silently, mischievous expressions decorating both of their faces. "I'm sure that you would be just as tired as Yamaguchi-san if you had to redo a bunch of dishes as well."

"The alumni are tough!" Kaede sighed out, flopping onto the ground and rolling over onto his back. His bright orange hair slumped on the carpet as well, as if physically exhausted. "Especially the younger ones. The Jewels."

Immediately, the tone of the room shifted.

"Tell me about it," Seoyun said with a serious expression. "The final nine students believing that their numbers would decrease even more and fighting practically every week or so over their positions so they weren't outdone. I can't believe that they even survived."

"You know, that Yukihira guy wasn't always the 'Son of the Devil' the way that the critics all say. They say he had a different name at school, though practically everyone's forgotten it except for the alumni in his class," another boy offered to them.

"He sure acts like it," Umiko said with a shudder. "He's expelled a lot of students. I think he expelled more than all of the other alumni. And for the oddest reasons, sometimes. People not wanting to cook? I mean, I can't imagine that, but it seems kind of harsh to me."

"He has high expectations," Seoyun said stubbornly. "He treated us like actual chefs. The others are treading on eggshells around us, letting some people slide when they didn't exactly hit the mark."

"That new one, the one that came today, was a total _babe_ though!" one of the other boys said with a dreamy sigh. "Can't believe she's almost nine years older than us!"

"I'd let her be _my_ goddess of the harvest," the last boy agreed. "She sure is bountiful enough to be called Japan's Demeter, as well."

"Well, it sucks for you two, since she's already taken," another voice at the (still open) door piped up. All six children in the room glanced over to see a boy with dark hair standing outside of the door.

"Hey, Shen-san! Come on in!" Umiko called out, waving at him. He blinked before awkwardly stepping into the room, eyes trained on the floor.

"Come on, first finisher, have some more confidence in yourself!" the third girl said with a foxy grin.

"I'm not that great," Adrian muttered, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. He tried his hardest to push the conversation with Dōjima that he had in the bath to the back of his mind. The older man had spoken of how the last person to manage to meet him at the baths was Yukihira Sōma himself, which made Adrian freak out because he didn't want to be compared with one of the food giants and such. Dōjima had been rather confused by that.

"You finished first out of all of us," Seoyun pointed out, bursting his unwelcome memory. "That's great enough."

Adrian just shook his head morosely.

"Anyhow, more importantly, what do you mean by 'taken', dude?" one of the other boys said impatiently.

"I mean that she's got a partner already," Adrian responded. Their collective responses were blank or incredulous faces. "You didn't notice the engagement ring on her left hand?"

"Damn," the two boys swore at the same time, deflating.

"How did _you_ notice?" Umiko asked curiously.

"I went up to them to ask a question and she was openly wearing it. They're all surprisingly friendly to one another, the Jewels are. They were in the middle of heckling Chef Aldini over the fact that he apparently wrote out the speech that they collectively gave. Chef Yukihira seems to be the most relaxed of all, which directly contradicts the focused attitude he adopts in the kitchen. Chef Hayama is always serious, though he seems more than absorbed in his own thoughts rather than disliking the others. I don't know about Chef Nakiri or Chef Mito, since they weren't judging us today, but I'd wager that they have just as close a relationship with them. I think that some of the other alumni are close as well, since they all had to survive Tōtsuki. I would think that being in the final handful of students in the Academy requires you to get closer, especially if you're in the Elite Ten the way they all were."

A moment of silence passed as the other students slowly comprehended how Adrian, who had been the quietest person in the room, suddenly rattled off so many observations that had simply passed the others by. Adrian noticed their amazement and immediately began to squirm under the unwanted attention.

"That's impressive," Seoyun said, leaning back, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Didn't really expect that from you, Shen-san."

"Thanks..?" Adrian said carefully, not sure whether to construe the comment as a compliment or criticism.

"That Chef Isshiki though!" Umiko burst out. "Coming through the ceiling at us! That was ridiculous!"

"Through the ceiling?" Adrian and the third girl asked, blinking.

"He found a tile that was retractable and travelled via the ceiling, jumped through the tile, and landed on his chef's table today. I could have sworn he jumped out just wearing his apron, but he landed wearing surprisingly formal clothing underneath the apron, so I'm not sure what I saw there."

"You're not alone in seeing just the apron," Umiko piped up. "He confuses me."

"That guy is my hero now," Kaede said from the ground. "Imagine if you could just walk around with just an apron on! That would be the best prank ever!"

* * *

Satoshi, clad in only his fundoshi as per usual, sneezed violently in his room. As he recovered from the explosive sneeze, blinking rapidly, someone knocked on his door. He opened it to see Sōma on the other side.

"Oh, hello there, Yukihira-kun!" Satoshi said happily.

"Just asking if you wanted any tea," Sōma said. "Also, bless you."

"Ah thank you to both, but no for the tea. It's strange. I don't think I'm getting sick."

"Odd. Alright, good night, senpai."

* * *

Seoyun rolled her eyes. "The day you do that is the day I use your skin and liver in my stock."

Kaede shrank away from the threat. "Mun-chaaaaaan, you're so scaaaaaryyyyy," he groaned.

"Yaaaaaamaaaaguuuuchiiii-kuuuuun, if you weren't an _idiot_ , I wouldn't have to be," Seoyun responded in the same tone of voice.

"Is this normal?" Adrian asked Umiko, gesturing between the two of them.

"Unfortunately," Umiko said with a sigh.

"Anyhow, I can understand how Mun-san was the next to finish, since she's got practice serving others and working as efficiently as possible, but how did Yamaguchi-san manage to stay right on my heels?" Adrian asked the pink-brunette.

"Yamaguchi-kun is actually quite the smart boy," Umiko said as the other two boys leapt onto Kaede and started wrestling with him while Seoyun and the girl tried to pull them apart frantically. "Actually, strike that. He's not smart at all. He's adaptive."

"Adaptive?" Adrian enunciated.

"Mhmm. Maybe you can't tell by looking at him, but he's American. Half-Japanese, half-French-American. He grew up in Los Angeles and was surrounded by all types of different cuisine, as well as the nascent movement towards fusion cooking. He's a master of thinking on the spot, gradually getting better and better at whatever he was doing until he has perfected it to the point at which it's become instinct. He's worked at Ethiopian, French, Chinese, Thai, and Mexican restaurants since he was eight, and now he's trained at blending any two of them together. Kind of scary, really."

Adrian looked at the orange-haired boy who was cackling maniacally beneath a pile of other bodies. "I wouldn't have guessed at first glance."

Umiko huffed. "No one would. He's a doofus."

"That's one way to put it."

* * *

"Yes, I'm at the airport now." Pause. "No, I didn't get into that much trouble."

An angered voice on the other side of the line. The woman smiled gently as she leaned back into the stiff seat she was sitting in. "He didn't do anything crass, love." The voice on the other side quieted down, sounding almost embarrassed. "Why would he? It wasn't ever anything more than an infatuation, and even then, it was one-sided on my part."

A calmer voice greeted her now. "Yes, I've got about fifty minutes until my plane is due to come in. I'll sleep on the plane." Pause. "You don't have to worry about me. I can manage."

The woman smiled, playing with one of her trademark navy blue braids. A light blush dusted her cheeks at the voice's final words. "I love you too. I'll see you soon."

The line went dead. The woman put her phone away quietly before glancing at the sapphire ring on her left hand, gently kissing it, and waiting for her plane to arrive.

* * *

 **...I'm really grabbing at straws with Kuga's nickname for Megumi. According to Google, 'hida' is 'plait' in Japanese. I am ashamed that that was the best I could come up with orz**

 **also thanks to adrian for explaining the glint because i didn't want to wait a few chapters to reveal that plot thing :) yes, megumi is happily engaged. and yes, you know who her fiance is. that is all. Adrian's also completely wrong about Erina in terms of the Jewels xD can't get it all right. If you're confused, Adrian doesn't live at Polar Star. He just overheard the conversation, offered his two cents, and was invited into their little gang's discussion. That be all.**

 **Also! I'm going to need a few more OCs to fill Polar Star. That's the only reason why there are generic girls and boys in the students' section. I'm planning to come back to this chapter and their descriptions with names and characteristics.**

 **Sorry for this extremely boring chapter! The next one will be eons more entertaining (and a lot more ship-happy)**

 **-Shriayle**


	11. DAY 3: AKIRA'S TASK

**agh my eyes hate me for staring at the computer all day as I wrote this up and edited and re-wrote and etc. Sorry if there are any typos or things that I just couldn't see because of that.**

 **New summary, by the way. I feel that it's more fitting, no?**

 **Also, since people are having trouble with the OCs, I'd like to take a moment to let you know: it's not mandatory for you to know and like the OC students. You're not supposed to really empathize with them. They're just there because at a Tōtsuki event, there are going to be students, unfortunately for someone who hates writing OCs like me. I don't care how much you like them or their style. I don't care if you hate them. They are static background characters designed to help characterize the real stars of this story, the alumni. The alumni will prefer certain students over others, and all of their opinions are completely different. This is meant as a way to show you what they value in the kitchen, not meant to introduce new characters into any possible sequel to this story. Never again will Umiko, Seoyun, and Kaede be used, nor any other student character.**

 **That being said, if you want to know more about them, I've included a brief description of certain OC students' appearances, heritages, and specialties at the end of this chapter.**

 **Feel free to ignore the arbitrary details of the OCs, and feel free to embrace them. They aren't meant to be liked or disliked. They're like the random background characters milling about when the Election results were announced, the ones used to emphasize what the point of the Election was when Megumi was chosen. They're also like the many nameless characters used to emphasize just how much Sōma is disliked in the beginning of his first year because of his speech and his background as a diner cook.**

 **Also this chapter miiiight change the story to a drama one rather than humor temporarily. Not sure yet, but it's tone becomes rather dark.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Neroj:** As more about Eishi is revealed, I will edit the chapters previous and make them more believable, don't worry. This entire story is still a work in progress, albeit a public one. There are extremely subtle hints about who Megumi's fiance is, but you don't need to pay too much attention to them quite yet because it will be revealed who it is later in the story. The cast is indeed huge. | **Guest:** Megumi doesn't have a husband. | **Just a guest (Guest):** Ehhhhhh it's not what I envisioned it would be. It'll need to go through more editing at a later date. | **genedge:** Hello there! I tried to make that chapter more interesting, but my mind was stuck on how I wanted to write this one, which probably didn't help the entire 'distracted' thing. | **Demon Damian:** Sent to you! Also yeah, I answer these from oldest to newest ^^" Adrian's name means 'darkness' so he is dark in appearance. At least, I think that's a meaning for it. Hmm. | **Arbitually:** She is indeed :D Her fiance is canon, as I'm against shipping canon characters with OCs, no matter how well written. I can accept an OC presence in a story, but it takes a lot to convince me that a canon character pairs better with an OC than it would to convince me that my least favorite ships are kinda cute if you look at them with the right lens. I originally didn't want to give any of the students names or features, but it got confusing to me over time which is the only reason why they're even named. Now, it's helpful because I get to write about what they think :) And Akira's head is in the clouds of spice he surrounds himself in all of the time, geez. | **C-san:** Plot has been twisted~ There are at least two hints in the prior chapter alone, though it takes a lot of thinking to get to it. | **Ken18 (Guest):** I feel that me saying it was boring lowered people's expectations enough to think it wasn't. And the reveal of her fiance comes later ;) Only those who are extremely detail-oriented even picked up on some of my veeery subtle hints. | **Laury Rose:** The OCs are easy to get lost in n_n I'm rethinking the sequel to this so that it doesn't include as many OCs as I can shove into it. And I'm actually planning quite a few events for the prequel as you read this story, though it's hard to know what to refer to here and what not to. Megumi is happily in love :) Sōma loves his experimentation as well. I might include Francesca later, but for now, I don't want to think about it, to be completely honest. Once I reread this story after it's complete, I might add her in. | **Blond Dude 42:** She's engaged to a canon character. That's all I'll say. And yeah, I caught that, just letting you know that this story's going to be a long one. I've read up to chapter 133 at this point, though I refer to the anime for voice tendencies and overall character development. I had to rewatch episode 18 at least three times just to get the tone for the first half of this chapter right. | **Gallian Squad 7:** Hey, nice! If you have any pointed questions, I can just PM you some answers now xD | **NefCanuck:** The stagnating plot is my worst fear n_n By this point in time, Ikumi doesn't care for Sōma in the way she did first year. The events that have led up to this will be in the prequel that I'm overhyping.

* * *

Akira's hawk-like eyes glanced over the students as they filed into his kitchen. They seemed relieved that he was just standing in the front of the room without trying for a dramatic entrance, the way he knew some of his alumni compatriots tended to perform (he already heard the muffled thumping in the ceiling above him). Their eyes betrayed their tiredness from the Dinner Buffet challenge as well as just overall stress over the Camp. He felt absolutely no sympathy for them. Thinking back to his own Tōtsuki experience, the Camp really was a nice, relaxing time to test your skills against all of the others in your class before they dropped like flies around you.

The exact moment that the clock said it was 8:00, Akira walked over to the door and slammed it shut, letting the sound echo through the hall. He heard the frantic running of an unfortunate student who had overslept, but he ignored even the insistent knocks and shouts from the other side. He promptly began to speak over the panicked ruckus, making himself smile benignly at the students in front of him.

"It's the morning of the third day. Congratulations for passing your first big test last night." Akira's smile immediately became less forced and more predatory. "Of course, if it were up to me, many of you would be home _right now_ for how you did."

Panicked glances met his eyes.

"Who else did you expect to have asked fifteen-year-olds to create a dish that focused on the aromatic draw of food?" Akira shook his head in a mock-sadness. "I thought that Tōtsuki students knew of the legacies the alumni made, but I guess I was wrong about you. I wonder just how many of you even saw the purpose for each dish made last night."

He cleared his throat, looking up at them all. He saw how many of them seemed horrified that they hadn't performed up to their expectations, that they had failed without actually failing. That reaction was enough to satisfy Akira. "Well, that's neither here nor there. What you need to focus on is the task at hand. Starting from this moment, we alumni are going to become much stricter on you. You proved yourself last night. Now continue to prove yourself or you can find yourself another academy to study at."

Akira picked up the cinnamon stick he had brought with him, gingerly lifting up the prized spice. "What is this?"

No one dared to respond.

"Cinnamon," he enunciated. "And not your typical cassia cinnamon. This is a stick of genuine ceylon cinnamon, a much more brittle spice than your usual fare. When added to baked goods, its typically mild scent strengthens into a much more attractive aroma, though it never masks the actual baked good's smell or flavor if used correctly. It doesn't have any of cheaper cinnamon's known spiciness, mellowing out flavors and allowing for more subtleties." He carefully put the rare spice back down on the table, noticing that there was one student in particular who was watching his movements with a hungry rapture in her gaze. He picked up a dried leaf he had next to the cinnamon. "This is pudina, more widely known as mint. I don't have to explain what mint does to your palate, do I? I hope you learned at least that in middle school." This last remark was paired with a smirk. "Spices and herbs enhance flavors in foods, and it's important for you to show me your mastery of them. Your task right now is to make a dish that doesn't use any salt or salty component in it, drawing its flavor from natural elements and spices as much as possible. All of your flavors have to be natural and any saltiness I taste better mild and accidental residue from other ingredients."

Akira looked around the room. Most of the students seemed daunted by this little task for them. _Maybe Tadokoro-chan was right when she said I expected too much of them,_ he mused.

"Are you all capable of doing this?" he asked them, his tone of voice leaving no room for refusals.

All of the students nodded their heads, some much more glumly than others.

"Good. You have two hours. Get to it."

The unruly bustle that Akira was accustomed to seeing wasn't present in the students anymore. They were efficient as they dashed to the various pantries stocked around the room and grabbed ingredients they planned to use, returning as many times as they needed to. He somewhat unconsciously took out one of the sturdier sticks of cinnamon he was used to carrying with him everywhere and played his usual game of 'guess where the spice is cultivated', holding the spice under his nose and analyzing its overall spiciness, smokiness, and other traits that were somewhat indescribable. Lost in thought, Akira closed his eyes and leaned back, focusing away from the craziness of the kitchen to the shelter of his own mind.

"Excuse me, chef?"

Akira did not exactly appreciate being drawn out of his world by a petty question. His eyes opened partially, narrowed in annoyance, at the student in front of him.

It was the girl he had noticed before. She shared his dark complexion, though her eyes were a determined brown as opposed to his own jade-colored irises. Her hair was rather obviously dyed, as her roots were growing in dark but her locks were a dazzling jay blue tied back in a simple ponytail, much like Akira's. He smirked at the similarities, recalling her entranced stare at his spices and wondering vaguely if she idolized him or something equally as idiotic. She was holding a rather large, sharp knife in her hands, and as she spoke, she habitually tossed it from hand to hand, twirling it between her fingers out of her nervousness.

She also had a hand covered in burn scars paler than her skin tone, and Akira noticed that the knife sometimes stumbled when it came to certain tendons in her hand.

"What do you want?" Akira asked in an uninterested monotone, the stick of cinnamon still propped up somewhere by his nose. This was clearly the girl that Nene had mentioned once before, one that she was somewhat interested in. He didn't particularly care for the student.

"Ch-Chef Hayama!" she said rather loudly, snapping into a bow. The students in the stations closest to her glanced over and either snickered or rolled their eyes.

Akira blinked. He hadn't quite expected that reaction. He slowly stood into a less relaxed position and put his hand down, removing the cinnamon from his thoughts.

"I was wondering what you are looking for in the dish, sir," the girl mumbled, perhaps realizing just how embarrassing she was really acting.

"What I'm looking for?" Akira repeated, not understanding her point. "I'm looking for flavors. Need I say anymore?"

The girl stood back up quickly. "N-no, not at all, sir! Just checking!" She quickly bowed again before practically racing back to her station.

Akira had no idea what to make of her hurried attitude, but he didn't dwell on it. Not wanting to devote more of his thought to the students, he leaned back against the wall before realizing with a tiny scowl that it would now be ten times harder to draw himself into his peaceful, aroma-driven mindset, now that the girl had wrenched him out of it. He sighed before putting the cinnamon into another bag, at a loss as to how to spend the time now.

Gradually, his thoughts began drifting to the tensions in the alumni quarters. They weren't competitive anymore, which was odd to him, though Takumi still tried to rekindle the competitive spirit to no avail. Akira had spent his entire high school career working towards a goal he didn't reach, but he didn't begrudge the ones who prevented that either. He had fought for Jun once, but that stopped being a useful goal when she practically abandoned him to go searching for new spices during the summer before his third year and forced him to stay at school rather than taking him with her. His goal of First Seat had rung hollow, as there was no one to prove it to.

Enter Yukihira Sōma, who didn't care for the prestige of the Elite Ten, who didn't care for the eyes that would watch his every move as a promising new chef. All he cared for was impressing his father, a father who supported his endeavors but had no qualms about tearing him back down with every defeat in their kitchen brawls, one of which Akira had witnessed. It was in the Polar Star Dormitory, and Megumi and Shun seemed more than used to the fierce battles between father and son. Even Takumi and Ikumi had barely glanced at the focused men, though they decided to stick around to watch the madness unfold in front of them.

It had been a brutal beat down from a former Elite Ten member to a current one. Sōma, the one who strove for First Seat to prove to this other man his dominance, had been decisively beaten and was unanimously voted against.

It was that moment that Akira realized what almost no one else had by that point: Sōma's goal was greater than theirs, yet at the same time much more attainable. It was that attainability that fueled him with so much more passion than anyone else was able to exhibit. Everyone else was following a dream, a desire, an intangible thing that constantly grew larger until it seemed overwhelming to even think about it. Sōma was chasing a goal that he could physically see running from him, a goal he could just barely taste before it slipped away again. His goals were tangible, his mind set on fiercely pursuing it with the diligence of a wild dog.

Akira knew that Sōma's drive impressed many different kinds of people. Big name people, like Nakiri Senzaemon. Influential people, like Dojima Gin. Admiring people, like Tadokoro Megumi and Mito Ikumi. Determined people, like Aldini Takumi.

Unwilling people, like Nakiri Erina.

Those two amused Akira to no end, what with their intensifying arguments and rather unique interactions. Their personalities clashed, with Sōma's easygoing nature and relatively mellow temperament and Erina's quick tongue and prideful outlook on life constantly wrestling with one another for dominance on more than a few occasions. Admittedly, both had gotten much better since high school, where it seemed as though Sōma's two purposes of living were beating his father and annoying Nakiri Erina and the only thing Erina ever wanted in the world seemed to be Sōma's death. Their arguments punctured the peaceful attitude of Tōtsuki with both her venomous words and his infuriating cheeriness. And yet, neither of them had figured out the reason behind the tensions between them in all of the years that Akira knew them both. It was madness, one might say. Akira had even felt need to step in a couple of times as he tried to explain to Erina with the straightest face possible what Sōma's intentions were and that he in fact did not act just to piss her off.

Akira wondered vaguely if the camp was what could change that uneasy weight between them. Already Sōma was proving to have his head much more tightly screwed on, and there was a dark weight about him that had never been present in the red-haired man before. His typical humor was laced with something almost menacing, which was a rather disorienting observation for anyone who had known the airheaded teen that Sōma used to be. Erina had changed as well; she was already more thoughtful, not discounting someone for their background but letting their talents be what she judged them based on. It was almost as though Sōma and Erina had traded characteristics in order to make themselves more well-rounded people.

The dark-skinned chef barely noticed the chicken marsala that a student presented to him, distractedly tasting it and deeming it worthy of passing. His sensitive tongue took in pepper, wine, lemon juice, even if his nose let him know that it was barely present in the dish, but his mind didn't bother to analyze it the way it usually did. This train of thought he was going through was much more interesting than any student's attempt to recreate his tastes, and he didn't want to splinter his concentration to both his thoughts and the novice dish in front of him.

An idea struck Akira, almost like an epiphany. It was already the third day, and neither Sōma nor Erina seemed willing to balk at the hatchets they refused to bury. Maybe someone needed to shove those former Top Seats together and see just what they had to say to one another.

Akira let the smallest of smirks slip onto his face as a plan started to unfold in his mind, his hand instinctively taking the cinnamon stick back out of its second bag and discreetly holding it up against his well-used nose. Its sharp aroma helped to settle his new train of thought into a peaceful slumber, just enough to stop thinking of it while he wrapped class up and prepared for the next session.

* * *

"Hey Pops. What's up?"

A muffled voice from the other side, much more somber than what Sōma was used to hearing.

"Eh? Did something happen?" Sōma's eyes hardened. "Did those stupid realtors come back? They try every year, even if I think it's just to eat for free from the restaurant."

An amused chuckle followed by an amused statement, though Sōma picked up on the melancholy tone that colored every one of Jōichirō's words.

"Pops, spit it out."

Silence on the other end, followed by four short words.

Sōma froze. He had been walking down the hallway back to his room, having thought the conversation topic would be something like the crazy foods his dad had come up with, an awkward topic to explain to someone else, but now he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.

"P-Pops, don't freak me out like that. What are you talking about?" Sōma let out a slightly crazed laugh, staring with sightless eyes at the floor. He hadn't noticed its rich sienna-and-crimson hue before: browns and reds, mixing together to become new colors he would never have imagined. There were specks of cream that dotted it as well, carefully aligned to be a crude mockery of a flower. It was clearly a perfect match for the rest of the hotel, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Jōichirō slowly added to his previous statement. Six easy-to-understand words.

The father was greeted with his son's silence.

And then, with his son's manic laughter. It wasn't Sōma's typical uncontrollable laughter, but a steady chuckling that was erratic and laced with sobs, one that grew in a steady crescendo as Sōma's mind seemed to short out at his dad's words.

"You aren't serious? Come on, y-your jokes are better than this. You can't just..." Sōma's voice cut out right before he could say something else. "Father. Please." His voice was no more than a whisper now.

It had been the first time in Sōma's entire life that Jōichirō became 'father.'

Jōichirō's silence was more than enough for Sōma to understand.

A muffled thud. Jōichirō didn't quite know what happened, but he wasn't surprised at the lack of sound.

"Sōma?" His voice, loud and insistent, cut through Sōma's frozen figure.

Jōichirō's only warning of what was going to come next was a pained scream and a grunt of effort. The next sound to hit his ear was a resounding _CRASH!_

And then a dial tone.

And then silence.

* * *

A blonde head poked out from a doorway. Nakiri Erina did not appreciate loud noises in the hallway, especially when she was trying to perfect a dish for her upcoming and definitely not rushed restaurant menu. It wasn't her fault that _certain alumni_ were distracting, was it?

Speaking of distracting alumni...

"Yukihira-kun," she snarled. "What is the meaning of all of this noise?"

The red-haired chef was standing right outside of his door, looking at something that was lying next to the wall. He started when Erina's words registered in his ear.

"A-ah, Erina! Sorry about that," he said, his voice wavering at first but then picking up its self-confident air. "Didn't mean to disturb you." His golden eyes, pupils tiny in a show of temporary insanity, were lacking their typical warmth and held a forced cheer for her to read instead of his real emotions.

"Did I say you did?" Erina snapped thoughtlessly, instantly flushing when she realized that she was implying he didn't disturb her. What crazy conclusions Sōma would come up with, Erina had no idea.

"Um." Sōma looked blank, as usual.

"Aieesh," Erina mumbled in annoyance, the tiny sound barely escaping her lips. She glanced behind her, grateful that she hadn't started heating anything up yet. "I'm trying to work on a recipe, Yukihira-kun."

"Right! Right. I'll just..." He gestured awkwardly at his door.

Erina raised an eyebrow and watched him walk inside. She glanced over to the wall. He hadn't even bothered to pick up whatever it was that he was staring at. Rolling her eyes and fueled by curiosity, Erina walked over to the thing and looked down at what it was.

A black phone, its screen almost obliterated from its impact against the wall, greeted her eyes. Erina bent over to pick it up and pressed a random button. To her surprise, it still worked. Well, half of it did, at least. Part of the cracked glass had actually fallen off of the phone, rendering that section of screen useless and leaving it dark. The rest, however, showed that Sōma had been on the phone with his father before something happened and he felt the urge to send it rocketing towards the now dented wall. Erina stood back up and looked at the brand new knick and the peeling wallpaper that accompanied it before frowning slightly and turning to return to her room. She kept the phone with her, not knowing what to do with it.

Once she got back inside, she closed the door behind her and looked at the phone once again. More glass shards were threatening to fall off, but she just avoided those as she gingerly put the phone down. Navigating the broken device, Erina somehow got Sōma's father's phone number. She inputted the digits with a shaky hand into her own cell phone and held it up to her ear, not sure of the conversation that was about to unfold.

 _"Hello?"_ A friendly, if not suspicious masculine voice, the one she remembered from all those years ago.

"Sai-no, Yukihira-sama," Erina found herself responding.

 _"Ah? Is this the young Nakiri-chan that I used to cook for?"_ Jōichirō's voice lost all suspicion and instead sang with cheer the way she remembered it once had. _"How have you been? How did you get my number?"_

"I've been fine, thank you. I got it from Yukihira-kun's phone."

Silence greeted her. _"Sōma's phone, huh?"_

Erina glanced at the device, which had given up its fight against power and shut down. "He almost destroyed it right outside of my room for some reason."

 _"Ah."_

"What were you talking about with him?" Erina asked, her curiosity no longer contained.

 _"Nakiri-chan, I'm afraid that's not something I'd like to disclose,"_ Jōichirō said slowly. _"If you really want to know, I'm sure that Sōma trusts you enough to tell you if you ask him."_

Erina thought back to the thoughtless, idiotic red-haired boy she knew from high school. "I'm certain," she muttered sardonically.

 _"Ah, don't be like that!"_ his voice boomed back, hinting at a laugh. _"Sōma's resilient. Just talk to him. Maybe he'll surprise you."_

"And maybe hell will freeze over," Erina grumbled. Before Jōichirō could respond to that, she ended the call, frustrated that she couldn't get the answers she sought.

* * *

 **Akira might have been Sōma's cooking rival, but he knows full well to stay away from Erina when Sōma's around xD Also, while he may be amused by Sōma and Erina's ignorance, he is more than fed up with it after eight years of watching it from the sidelines. He is also one sly bastard.**

 **Aaaand drama! I'll wrap it up shortly, it's really just a gateway to more shippy goodness.**

 **Speaking of which, I'll be spending next chapter detailing the ships much more in detail ;) you'll see what I mean.**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or criticisms at all, please leave them in a review! If they are urgent, I'll get back to you ASAP, but I always reply.**

 **-Shriayle**

 **Also, as promised:**

 **Names are written surname-first.**

 **Mun Seoyun: Korean girl. Long dark brown hair typically held up in a bun with a pair of chopsticks. Dark purple eyes. Somewhat short. No specialty.**

 **Minami Umiko: Japanese girl. Somewhat short rosy brown hair usually braided back or in a ponytail. Green eyes. Average height. Seafood specialty.**

 **Kannan Rajya: Indian girl. Somewhat dark blue hair usually tied back in a ponytail. Perceptive brown eyes. Tall. No specialty, but known for ambidexterity.**

 **Yamaguchi Kaede: American boy; maternal heritage is French, paternal is Japanese. Bright orange hair typically uncombed and all over the place. Light silver eyes. Slightly taller than average. Adaptability specialty.**

 **Shen Adrian: Chinese boy; adopted from Britain. Dark black hair neatly combed into place. Hazel eyes. Tall. Observation specialty.**

 **...and that's all for now. More might have to be created later for meh purposes, but I'm not excited to shove more unnecessary characters into this fic.**


	12. DAY 3: TAKUMI'S TASK and THE AFTERMATH

**Have some more plot. Lots and lots of plot. And shipping. There's a bit of that in here too :P**

 **Sorry for not touching on Takumi's task as much in this chapter, by the way. I didn't want to go through the charade of 'wow this dish is good how did you make it' all over again. I think it's been established that we're at the Camp by this point.**

 **Also, to those of you who think Jōichirō sold the restaurant/retired/stopped cooking/etc., I will say that his words from last chapter have already been touched on in previous chapters. There are no new plot points. All of them have been laid out on the table. If you want to skim through the previous ones and offer up your theories, I'll see how much I can validate them for you.**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Laury Rose:** Nah, nah, Jōichirō's not that much of a butthead to do that to Sōma. Retiring might be closer on his mind than selling the store. I just felt like bringing the realtors back as someone that Sōma would complain about every once in a while. Pffft Akira's idea is probably the complete opposite of helpful in this regard, to be honest. | **Neroj:** Akira seems more 'I care about no one' than I thought he would sound. I guess it works for me. Also, Sōma owns the Restaurant by this point. The realtors were just thrown in there because it was a genuine problem Sōma had to face outside of Tōtsuki. | **Gallian Squad 7:** There's more shippy here haha. The prequel will be set in the 92nd Generation's third year (kind of like Hypocrisy's story now that I think about it) and the sequel will most likely be about a year after this story until maybe ten years after this story. There's going to be a few time-skips, of course. | **yoav the badass:** Nope! Nice guess, though. | **NefCanuck:** Akira doesn't like people, from what I've observed. And whooOOAAA sorry for the trigger man D: | **HoshinaYuki:** I responded to most of this but newer response is that Akira's thing isn't meant to shove them together in a Cupid-like manner but more for them to rationally talk it out. It might not go as well as he hopes, though xD | **Ken18 (Guest):** DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA | **Demon Damian:** Cliffhangers are fun to write :P Also they let me put off thinking of how to resolve certain things before it's time to. And the conclusion for this little arc won't be for another couple of chapters, sorry~ | **l Hypocrisy l:** Much drama, much drama. Erina is unintentionally enthralled with Sōma, and vice versa. Oops, did I say that out loud? | **Blond Dude 42:** My problem with OCs is that sometimes they end up almost taking over the story and not leaving me any opportunity to go back to the characters I meant to write about, which is not something I want to deal with in this particular story. I'm okay with OCs as long as it's tastefully done. Otherwise you might as well be writing your own story and not a fanfiction, no? And yes, my ships are not very common, but I like them so yeah. | **the real kirito:** This is indeed going to become a Sōma/Erina story but it won't focus solely on Sōma/Erina, which is why they are not tagged as a couple. Or maybe it will turn into a true Sōma/Erina and I'll change the tags later. Who knows?

* * *

It took Erina all of ten minutes to realize that she still had Sōma's phone with her, as mangled and shattered as it was. She groaned out loud, flopping in her chair in an undignified manner she only adopted when no one was around, not even Hisako. Speaking of which, it had been days since Hisako had last contacted her about the restaurant they were planning to open. Erina looked back at her own phone and thought about calling the pink-haired woman she once called her attendant and was now her sous chef. She needed to inform Hisako about the new recipes and... the paperwork? She didn't even know where to begin in the restaurant business.

Silently, Erina finally began to empathize with Tsukasa's constantly high level of stress surrounding paperwork and making things run as smooth as glass. Erina wished she had some of his tireless determination when it came to making things work out in the end.

Erina bit her lip, slightly stressed out. She had been trained to become a chef for her entire life. She had the talent, the training, and most importantly the lineage. She was supposed to open a restaurant in her family's name, and it would thrive within the first year, and then she would be able to spread her knowledge onward. It was only recently that Erina found herself almost reluctant to continue pursuing the restaurant.

She blamed the owner of the destroyed phone that taunted her from her table. His fiery passion towards his restaurant, one that he had outright owned for the past three years already, was hard to match, especially when passion had been stamped out of her from the moment her God's Tongue had been revealed. Her parents had immediately paraded her around to the nearest gourmets, lavishing praise on her only when the public eye shone on them and their Wonder Child. She had craved attention for herself, stealing her cousin's dolls and terrorizing the young Alice when the girl was acknowledged as more than just a collection of taste buds. One of Erina's earliest memories was of downing cup after cup of steaming hot tea, all in the hopes of destroying her tongue completely so she could just have actual friends. Her father had walked into the kitchen as she poured her sixth cup, tears streaming down her face, her tongue already burnt a bright red.

Of course, her mother and father had been terrified and promptly dumped her off onto her grandfather in the hopes that having an insane child wouldn't permeate their own reputations.

How she despised her parents.

Senzaemon had been more than willing to raise Erina himself, training her to be the greatest Nakiri to have ever lived, thanks to her palate. He had treated her as a child when he could, but his child-rearing skills weren't exactly amazing, as evidenced by Erina's father himself. She had given up on being a normal girl by that point, robotically going through the motions of throwing chefs' finest creations and greatest dreams in their faces with remarks about how disgusting their food was. She lost all semblance of emotion. Erina had gained a sense of achievement every time she could make a grown man's face fall. She became addicted to the sadism; the burst of satisfaction was the closest she could feel to emotions back then, and she wasted no time in feeling it each time she tasted something new.

Then he had come. Saiba Jōichirō, a chef that Senzaemon practically begged to come work for him. Erina had been raised on the stories of Tōtsuki's prized students, and hopefully having him around would curb her, even just a little. When the long-haired man had arrived, a case of knives thrown candidly over his shoulder and a squid leg peeking out from his lips, she had been prepared for him to leave broken the next morning. She had given a haughty sniff, challenging him to cook her something she found yummy.

The first dish he served her had her trembling with pleasure.

It had been deceptively simple and she had turned her nose up to it. When he practically annoyed her into taking the first bite, she had been immediately hooked. She had seen the happiness in cooking and serving, in eating and enjoying. Almost instantly, her sadistic drive had settled down, though she still reveled in the power to destroy a lowly chef's reputation in the field.

Now, she wanted to help others feel that happiness that she had been engulfed in.

But no one told her how _damn hard_ it was to open a restaurant of her own! All she wanted was to cook for an audience. She didn't care about real estate and business; that had been Eizan's responsibility back in her years of working in the Elite Ten. After he had graduated, Shun had unexpectedly slipped into his place, easily dealing with the purchasing and cultivation of all of the Elite Ten's equipment and stock foods.

Hisako wasn't much help, as her family wasn't in the restaurant business. Erina hadn't bothered to get an apprenticeship with one of the restaurateur alumni, something she now sorely regretted. Maybe if she had served under Mizuhara or Shinomiya or even Inui, she'd have even the slightest idea of what to do.

She didn't even consider asking them now, when she was supposed to have embarked on the field years ago. She didn't want to face their surprise or their jeers, never mind that the two women would most likely not respond in such a manner (Shinomiya was a whole different ball game).

And of course, the one thing that angered her the most was that the one other person to so wholly satisfy her cravings the way Jōichirō did was his son. His insufferable, immature, completely unprofessional son, whose smirks and rejoinders made Erina want to slap his silly expressions off of his face. His son, who didn't even share his name.

Why didn't Sōma carry the Saiba name with pride, the way Erina threw her Nakiri heritage everywhere? Erina's face settled into a thoughtful mask as she tried to work her way through his thinking process. He had learned of his true heritage in first year, at least. Even if he would have to rename his restaurant, it would have only increased his prestige and welcomed even more international acclaim to the shopping district his restaurant was part of. It was completely beneficial to become Saiba Sōma rather than stay as Yukihira Sōma, not to mention he would probably have gained more of her respect if he started using his father's last name.

Deciding that the mystery that was Yukihira Sōma was too much for her to bother thinking of, she stored the train of thought away as a question to ask Sōma later. Erina's eyes landed on the cell phone again and she sighed before snatching it up, grimacing when the glass shards poked the inside of her hand, and knocked on the wall that connected her room to Sōma's.

He knocked back. She let a trail of knocks lead towards the door, and once she was out of the room, she watched as he curiously opened the door.

Wordlessly, she held the phone out to him.

"It's yours, right?" she snapped.

* * *

The students looked warily at the man in front of them. Even without attending one of his classes they had had nightmares about him.

Takumi wasn't looking at the students at all. He was more interested in polishing the mezzaluna that he had taken to carrying with him everywhere. Ever since his Shokugeki with Subaru and the subsequent loss of his treasured blade, he had begun to respect it to an even greater extent and refused to part with it, no matter how inconvenient.

Airport security was hell to get through.

He glanced up when the little timer on his desk buzzed, signifying the start of class. He sighed, put the mezzaluna down, and turned the timer off before turning to the class.

Every single student was standing at attention, looking at him fearfully.

To say Takumi was confused was the understatement of the century, or maybe just of the week.

"Ahem!" Immediate silence. Now Takumi was starting to get nervous. He ran through the rules of his task: using rice, showcase your culture. It was simple enough, but Takumi knew he had resigned himself to a fate of risottos and traditional rices when he chose his task. He just prayed for the one person who would try something new. He briefly wondered if this was how Inui felt every year and finally felt some pang of sympathy for the crazy woman. After sending off the on-edge students, he settled back and prepared himself for another day of boredom. He picked up his mezzaluna again and looked at it with a vague fondness before beginning to polish it again.

He had brought two things from Italy to Tōtsuki: the olive oil and his mezzaluna. Isami hadn't even bothered to bring his own mezzaluna. To be honest, Takumi thought that Isami hadn't planned to graduate from Tōtsuki. Isami was there to support his brother, the one that everyone expected to excel. And when Isami returned to Italy after second year, Takumi had been upset, yes, but not surprised. Isami had to watch over the trattoria, and they had finally been of legal Italian age to own it, so their father wanted to teach one of them how to run it. Isami hadn't even bothered to see if Takumi wanted to go before buying a plane ticket and leaving.

He had left Takumi with a half-full bottle of olive oil and the mezzaluna.

Students brought up their attempts to him. He passed a few with a tangible boredom, allowing himself to marvel at one student's clever rice cake dish, before getting up with the mezzaluna in hand and walking towards the vehicles to head back to the main resort.

He ran into one of the other alumni on the way back.

"Oh, Aldini-kun," Shinomiya said with a blasé air as he regarded the blond Italian. "Thank god _you're_ on time."

"Excuse me?" Takumi responded, arching an eyebrow.

The pink-haired man sighed slightly. "As usual, that mess of a woman is late. Probably got caught waist-deep in steamed fish or something again."

Takumi had no idea how to respond.

"How long do you think we should give her before I call her to tell her to move her ass?" Shinomiya continued, glancing towards Takumi.

"Two minutes," Takumi said after glancing at his watch. "Anything later than that and Dōjima might ask us where we are."

The two minutes duly passed. Shinomiya growled in an almost feral manner before snatching up his phone flicking through the contacts, and tapping Inui's name.

"WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU, YOU AIRHEADED WOMAN?!" he roared into the phone. Takumi took an actual step back at the sound of Shinomiya's irateness. "YOU AND YOUR CLASS WAS DUE BACK HERE ALL OF FIVE MINUTES AGO!"

 _Two minutes_ , Takumi corrected mentally, though he wasn't brave enough to voice his correction out loud to the angry French chef. He dimly heard Inui's faint protests.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW BUSY YOU ARE, JUST MOVE IT!" Shinomiya snapped before ending the call abruptly and letting out an exasperated grunt. "That woman ticks me off."

"I see," Takumi said, hoping that he didn't manage to annoy Shinomiya in any way.

The taller man glanced over to Takumi and snorted in amusement. "I see what Fuyumi-san sees in you."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not all that loud when it comes to being around people more accomplished than you, are you?"

Takumi had no response to that.

"She probably likes that innate respect."

"How do you know so much about Mizuhara-senpai, Shinomiya-senpai?" Takumi asked, a faint suspicion trickling into his mind.

"Oh look, Hinako-chan finally made it here," Shinomiya said coolly, glancing up to spear the frantic woman with a steely glare.

* * *

Sōma blinked. "Um, yeah. That's my phone. Where did you..." His voice trailed off as he leaned out of the door farther to see the rather visible dent in the wall. Sōma winced. "Ooh. Might need to pay for that."

"Don't bother. Tōtsuki can cover it."

"How do you... right, Nakiri owns Tōtsuki. Nearly forgot." Sōma scratched the back of his head sheepishly. They stood in an awkward silence.

"Are you going to take this back or not?" Erina finally snapped, flushing as she did so.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," Sōma reached out for it. He stared at the rubble uncomprehendingly. "Wow, I really did a number on this, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry, but do you think I could borrow your phone quickly? I actually need to call someone right now and ask about something."

Noting Sōma's purposeful vagueness somewhat suspiciously, Erina only silently nodded before giving him her own phone. Sōma wasted no time in thanking her quickly and dialing a number in.

"Hi, Alice!" he said gleefully. "Guess whose phone I got!"

"YUKIHIRA SŌMA!" Erina screamed when she realized he was just prank-calling someone on her cell phone. She lashed out with a hand to somehow grab her phone back. Sōma just grabbed it with his other hand, still smiling impishly, as he continued his conversation.

"Yeah, I broke my phone so I asked if I could borrow hers. Don't know how she didn't see this coming," he reported, sticking the tip of his tongue out of his mouth at Erina when she started to actually fume. He kept blathering on to Alice, who was more than amused by this turn of events.

"You _aho_. If you don't give me my phone _this instant_ , I will utterly eviscerate you," Erina snarled, trying to wrestle her hand out of Sōma's. She then actually blushed a bright red when she realized that he was holding her hand and immediately stopped fighting only to stare at it, completely horrified.

Sōma looked confused at her sudden lack of vitality before he followed her gaze to their interlocked fingers. His face then matched hers. He had cut himself off mid-sentence.

 _"Yukihira-san? Is anything the matter?"_ Alice's bell-like voice clearly rang out from the speaker. Still Sōma and Erina were frozen, both staring at their hands. Finally, Erina let out a slight squeak of both indignation and disgust.

" _Sounds like you two are getting up to something over there. I'll leave you to it. Bye, Yukihira-san! Talk to you soon!"_ She hung up smartly, breaking the spell on Sōma. He lowered the phone, quickly glancing at it to make sure she actually hung up, and blinked in mild surprise at the list of recent calls.

"Since when did you have my dad's number?" he asked, bemused, as he handed the phone back to Erina.

"Er," Erina replied without her usual composure. Everything about the situation was the complete opposite of graceful. She wondered briefly what to tell him that would sound somewhat decent. "After I got your phone. I wanted to know what you were talking about, and I haven't talked to Saiba-sama myself in a while." Erina winced. She knew that what she had just said was the complete opposite of decent.

Sōma stood still, examining Erina, all traces of humor now gone. "You called my dad to ask what we were talking about?" he rephrased.

"That makes it sound much worse, Yukihira-kun," Erina sniffed. "I merely asked to make sure you weren't distracted from your work here."

"My classes ended this morning," Sōma said with a slightly suspicious tone. He broke out into a grin. "Are you really that worried about me, Erina? How sweet."

" _Yukihira Sōma._ I swear, one day you're going to wake up and find half of your hair missing."

"So now you want to know where I live? Sneaky, sneaky," Sōma teased, smirking.

Erina felt herself grow more and more flustered. She tried to jerk her hand back, but Sōma held fast.

"You're no fun," Sōma said with a mildly fake pout. "Let's have a normal conversation for once without you going after my head, hmm?"

"That _is_ a normal conversation with you, Sōma-kun," Erina growled. "You are the single most annoying person on the Earth and going after your head is a logical leap to take from that conclusion."

"You said my first name again!"

"Shut it."

Erina was very upset with her quickly dwindling supply of insults to use against Sōma.

"Ah, don't be like that, Erina! Even your cousin is talking to me somewhat nicely! And if Pops is willing to talk to you about how I'm doing, then I can trust his judgment too!"

"He didn't _say_ anything about how you were doing. He said to ask you about that."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I didn't think you needed the inflating to your ego."

Right before Sōma could respond, Satoshi suddenly burst into the hallway.

"My friends! It has been a night too many without a wondrous gathering again! Please join me in my room tonight for another wonderful time celebrating our youth and our cooking combined!" He then zoomed off, his tie streaming out behind him. Sōma blinked after him, and Erina took advantage of his momentary surprise to wrest her hand out of his.

"I'm guessing that's what he did on the first night," Sōma said.

"That's exactly what he did," Erina said through gritted teeth. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to my room and plan for my restaurant."

"You're still planning? Y'know, Erina, if you need help in setting a restaurant up, you can just ask me for help and advice and stuff."

Erina whipped her head around to stare at him. "Why on earth would I want your help, Yukihira-kun?"

"You should really stick to one name for me or I'm going to get really confused," Sōma muttered before shaking his head. "And you might want my help because I've been in the restaurant business for twenty years."

"You're barely older than twenty-two," Erina growled at him.

"I know. I told you that I first picked up a knife when I was three, right?"

"Your father is the most irresponsible person I've ever met."

"I would defend him, but it wasn't one of his finer moments."

Erina decided that it was as good a time as any to ask about Sōma's name. "Why do you still go by Yukihira?"

Sōma didn't seem to expect the non sequitur. "What?"

"If I were you, I'd have started calling myself Saiba the second that I found out who my father really was. I don't even like my own father, but I call myself Nakiri because of its noble heritage in the gourmet world. Yukihira is an unknown name. Why would you choose it over one prized by gourmands the world over?"

Sōma's eyes turned almost frosty. "So, that's what it is now? You only take on a name if it's beneficial to you?"

"You would have so much more international respect for your food if you showed off your lineage!" Erina hissed. "Don't you understand?"

"I understand, _Nakiri_ ," Sōma said. "But I don't particularly like the implication you're giving me that Yukihira is a bad name."

"As I've already said, it's an _unknown_ name, not a _bad_ one," Erina responded.

"And maybe I like being unknown!"

"That is completely unlike you, Sōma-kun." The red-haired chef didn't even smirk at the usage of his given name. "You like the acknowledgement you get from your cooking. You could get so much more respect as a Saiba, so why don't you?"

"No one else may appreciate it, but Yukihira is a name that I respect," Sōma said with a note of finality. "Nothing you say will change that opinion. If people don't respect the name Yukihira yet, I won't rest until they do. My name is going to be the one that everyone looks out for ini years to come, and Saiba will be laid to rest like the Asura that Pops used to be has been."

Sōma went back into his room, presumably to prepare for the party that Satoshi had just announced.

Erina slowly retreated to her own room, mulling over his words. They rang true to form, but she couldn't help but feel that he had deliberately left out a few details in his explanation, as though he was telling only half of the truth.

 _Tell me the whole truth, Sōma-kun. Why do you cling to the name Yukihira like a dying man to life?_

* * *

 **Satoshi and his parties man. The guy parties hard.**

 **Also yay these two just can't go an hour without nitpicking at some tiny detail sigh. Although, I have to be honest, this chapter turned out a lot lighter than I thought it would. I planned for more dark stuff but it's actually rather pleasant and joking for the most part. I am more than grateful for that, I'll say.**

 **Anyhow, shorter chapter again, mostly because I got tired of looking for specific recipes and also I'm not sure how Takumi would respond to a student's dish. I haven't quite got a grasp of his character outside of his very one-sided competition with Sōma (I say one-sided because Sōma doesn't seem to really care at all).**

 **And entrance of more plot! plot plot plot**

 **Questions? Comments? Please leave a review! Thanks~**

 **-Shriayle**


	13. DAY 3: TERUNORI'S TASK

**The Shokugeki no Sōma TV Tropes page is a riot. My personal favorite part is for the Visual Innuendo: "** **In the anime's ED, the Polar Star Dorm students all float by clinging to food, generally looking like they're asleep. Then along comes naked Isshiki riding a giant banana."** **Accurate, I'll say, and I'll also add that I genuinely considered pairing Isshiki with a guy in this story but ultimately decided against it :P**

 **Also when did we get to 200 follows on this story? Allow me to hug all of you and also give you a slightly longer chapter :'D**

 **REPLIES:**

 **Guest:** Thank you, sir :D | **Laury Rose:** It could be any of those things yes. Erina is conflicted, to say the least. She's curious, but has enough tact not to ask, though Sōma's antics sometimes strip away all of the aforementioned tact. And she had little choice in her name, so she embraced it, so she can't understand why Sōma bothers to go by 'Yukihira'. Joichiro is still as stray a cat as ever. | **Blond Dude 42:** You're pretty close ;) And yeah, I have a backstory for her that is to be revealed... next chapter, actually. I'm pretty sure. And all I know about Code Geass is that the Soup Store meme comes from a voiceover of it, though I do actually want to watch the anime. And ahhhhh I know I get no sleep in writing this but you shouldn't get no sleep reading it D: | **Neroj:** The students aren't scared of Takumi more than they're scared of the alumni in general. They've gotten more than paranoid about the tiny things that matter. Takumi's long since given up that idea because he's realized just how stupid it sounds by now. | **Agnew (Guest):** The big reveal will come next chapter :D I feel that this story is better read in one sitting, to be completely honest. | **Demon Damian:** It was short because I had nothing else to add ;w; Everything will come to light next chapter. And awww I love writing this story :D Though my inspiration is threatening to make me write a whole new story for another fandom, which really sucks because I still love this story so much more D: | **Ken18 (Guest):** Takumi somehow got mezzaluna back. I'm not sure how. I'll think on it for the prequel ^^" | **l Hypocrisy l:** Erina isn't quite sure how to breach the topic with Sōma quite yet, unfortunately. Things are definitely going to play out similarly to how you say, though I'm sure that Sōma's dumb joke won't make Erina laugh more than confuse her until they can talk it out like the reasonable adults that they are. | **RandomWriterPerson:** WHOA THAT'S A HUGE TEXT WALL. AND I READ IT ALL. GOOD JOB FOR WRITING ALL OF THAT. And yeah, I'm Asian so I knew some of those details, but since I was raised American I don't know all of the tiny nuances that you described, so thanks! I do have a different idea than the 'divorce' thing you've described here, but knowing what you've said here makes me want to revise my earlier idea into something that might blend into your 'history lesson' as you call it. What I'm going to say is that in this universe of mine, Sōma's legal name isn't Yukihira. That might not make sense right now, but it will after you read the next chapter. | **ClippedNinja:** Aww, I'm glad that you like this story for its slowness xD I'm not good at writing the 'call me maybe' stories as I think of them ('hey i just met you and now i love you call me'), and most of my friends' long-lasting relationships developed slowly, so I'm just more used to writing slow-starting relationships. I don't like to think of it as *sneaky* as much as *really bad detail-dropping*, but thanks xD More Sōma/Erina will come in the future! Aaaand it will be a little while before the actual cutesy shippy things will really start to pick up steam. There is a sequel planned, after all. | **NefCanuck:** Erina's a bit more fleshed out than the usual 'pretty princess' routine, I hope o_o and yeah, her life's been a bit too good for her and now she's kinda paying the price for it. Not everyone cares that she's a Nakiri, after all. Also, fun fact: Takumi's task was originally just going to be running the Dinner Buffet, but then I needed something to break up the tension between Erina and Sōma, even a tiny bit, so I gave him this challenge too. Not much else to it. | **Hinoiri Lwin:** Their personalities clash too much not to fight right away xD Maybe soon. That's all I'll say.

* * *

With every passing minute the students got more and more antsy for the tasks they had to perform. No longer was Tōtsuki a place where they could just compete with one another with no fear of danger. Now, they had to compete on a whole different level, still trying to outclass one another, yes, but the margin of error had shrunk considerably under the hands of the alumni.

Speaking of which, there didn't seem to be any alumni in the kitchen-classroom they just entered, which was a shock to them. There was a person perhaps around their age with somewhat long russet brown hair that seemed to defy gravity as it shot out everywhere standing at one of the stations, cleaning it off. His hands flew over the station as he wiped it down, muttering something about messy people and needing to be ready for others. He ran across the room while holding a rather dangerous looking knife nonchalantly in his right hand, looking down at his watch. Upon seeing the time, the person squeaked and literally threw the knife towards the chef's table. The students watched with wide eyes as the gleaming knife gracefully cut through the air and sank into the wood of the cutting board, a good inch deep.

The mysterious person let out a very audible breath, attracting their attention again. His bangs were bleached bright blond, though some were held back from his face by a couple of bobby pins. He slowly walked up to the table and pulled the knife out with a sort of serene grace that he hadn't even displayed in the kitchen before.

Right then, the figure turned to the doorway, his face completely void of all emotion, and noticed the crowd of terrified students there. His eyes shot back towards the watch, the gears running furiously in his head and almost falling out of place at his subsequent realization.

"Crap! My watch is, like, three minutes off!" he yelped rather loudly as he began to scramble around. "Come in, come in! Gah, that's such a bad oversight on my part."

The students cautiously entered as the figure practically shooed them in.

"Get in pairs! Go, go, go!" He frantically gestured with his hands to try and deliver his point more soundly. They didn't move. "Come on, you can do it!"

"E-excuse me, but didn't you just have this class? Shouldn't you go to your next one?" one girl piped up. The person's eyes snapped over to her and narrowed slightly.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" he asked, still sounding almost jovial in tone though it had quieted some.

"W-well, you're like our height, so..." she trailed off, realizing that she had made a potentially egregious error.

The man's eyes practically blazed with fury as he pointed at her. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT MY HEIGHT?!" he roared, still pointing, his hand trembling with rage.

A tile in the ceiling shifted and Satoshi peeked his head out. "Kuga-san, watch your language," he admonished gently.

"Get outta here, ya weirdo!" Terunori snarled up at him while the students gaped at Satoshi's complete lack of tact. "Don't you have a class to get to?"

"I'm only next door," the brunet responded with his usual warm smile, the one that made Terunori want to slap his silly face down. "Meanwhile, you should be hoping that Dōjima-senpai doesn't hear your crude words or you might be asked to leave the Camp. And wouldn't that be a shame?"

"GODDAMN IT, ISSHIKI! YOU'RE THE PUBLIC DISGRACE RIGHT NOW, I HOPE YOU KNOW! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE BEFORE I REPORT _YOU_ TO DŌJIMA-SENPAI FOR YOUR UNCONTROLLABLE, STUPID BEHAVIOR! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE CEILING! AND STOP BUTTING YOUR PRETTY BOY FACE INTO MY BUSINESS, YOU UNCONTROLLABLE STRIPPER!" Terunori shouted up to his former classmate. Satoshi only offered one last warm smile, one that slipped into a crafty smirk a second before he replaced the tile in the ceiling. It took a few seconds for the overhead shuffling to recommence, and only a moment longer for the sounds to fade into the distance.

Terunori let out an exasperated groan before turning his attention back to the students. "Listen up, you nards, I don't have any patience to deal with anyone right now, thanks to that buffoon. You lot are dependent on these things right here" (at this point, Terunori snatched the knife from the cutting board and loosened it with a sharp jerk. He then began to gesture with it wildly, much to the students' nervousness) "and that's, like, not something you should be proud of. Knives are important, yes, but other utensils are just as useful. That's why today, you'll be cooking using only a spoon. I don't give a rat's ass what you decide to make, but it better be with a spoon and nothing else! You've got two hours! Is that clear?!" He threw the knife back down, though it just quivered on the board rather than sinking into the wood of the cutting board this time.

"Yes, chef!" the students responded in unison, more than frightened by the sudden change in character that Terunori exhibited than by the task he presented. They were used to the strenuous tasks by now. They were _not_ used to the alumni's varying personalities.

"Well, get to it, ya runts!" Terunori snapped, releasing the students to do his bidding. He watched them swarm around the pantries for a split second before he slumped down into the chair, relaxing into a slouching pile of bones.

Meanwhile, the students whispered about him within their pairs. "Who is that, again?" Seoyun asked Umiko in a quiet hush.

"Judging by his, er, violent reaction to the comment on his size, I'd say that's Kuga Terunori, the Imp," Umiko responded in the same tone. "During his time at Tōtsuki, he rose to Third Seat, though from what I understand he and the Second Seat at the time, Isshiki Satoshi, were pretty much equals and they kept switching seats throughout the year, even though the First Seat consistently bested them both. He's known for his knowledge of spiciness and heat, as well as his hot temper. I think he's a Chinese food expert."

Seoyun hummed under her breath. "So, maybe if we use these, we can impress him..."

Umiko glanced down at what Seoyun was holding in her hand. The pink-brunette winced violently. "Why would you even want to use those disgusting things?!" Umiko asked, horrified.

Seoyun took out one of the salt cured chili peppers out of the container they were kept in and examined it in the light. "They have a rather distinct flavor," she said lightly, sniffing the pepper and recoiling at its scent with a grimace.

"Yeah, one that I hate above all other things," Umiko said with a sniff.

"You just don't like it because you misused it with that salmon once."

"It was a traumatic experience," she grumbled.

Seoyun shook her head. "Right. Let's see what we can do with a spoon."

* * *

"I'm impressed with you, really."

He could already feel an intense migraine start to build up, pounding against his temples.

"Look at you! You managed not to ruin the hopes and dreams of possible new chefs with your attitude alone!"

"I swear to the heavens―"

"And you even managed to give out some praise to some of the kids! They must have been beside themselves, no?"

"Will you please―"

"And all on top of all you had to go through earlier today! Kuga-senpai, you're really a legend!"

"Yukihira-chin. Shut. The. Fuck. UP!"

The aforementioned red-haired man held up his hands in surrender, a cocky grin slicing across his face. "Sorry, sorry," he said, sounding completely unapologetic. "It's just nice to see how you're adapting to the situation! You don't have those monks of yours that seem to be able to read your mind, and now you're seeing how actual people will react to your orders!"

"It's not like that, Yukihira-chiiiiiiiin," Terunori groaned, throwing himself onto the sofa in a position that the other alumni had long since gotten used to seeing him in. "I can't beliiieeeve you! The students are getting, like, better with each passing task, so as long as _a certain idiot_ " (he looked up to glare at Satoshi, who had walked out of the elevator clad in only his apron, blissfully ignorant of Terunori's cold stare) "doesn't interrupt my classes!"

Sōma followed Terunori's gaze. "What, Isshiki-senpai? He's not that bad, Kuga-senpai. Just a little..." Sōma's voice trailed off as he thought about what to say. "Hard to place, I guess."

"And that, from you, Sōma-kun, is more than a compliment to me!" Satoshi called out as he walked away, surprising both men since he was a good ten yards away from them by that point in time.

"How the heck does he do that?" Terunori grumbled. "It's like he has ears in the wall."

 _I wouldn't be surprised if he did_ , Sōma muttered mentally, suddenly growing suspicious of every tiny glint of light in the corners of his eyes.

Terunori jumped as his phone buzzed, cheerfully informing him that he received a new email. He checked the message before actually shouting out loud and flailing his arms around, flinging his phone in the process. Sōma managed to intercept and grab the phone out of midair. Watching Terunori's now terrified actions with wide eyes, he quickly glanced down at the screen of the phone.

 _"Why would I have ears in the wall? They're clearly on my head ^_^ Silly Kuga-san~~"_

Sōma was officially freaked out by Satoshi now.

"Alright, Isshiki!" Terunori shouted out, looking scared for his life. "We, like, get it! You're a creepy bastard! You know about everything that happens here! Just stop with this nonsense!"

In the middle of his tirade, an elevator opened and Erina, Akira, Takumi, Inui, and Shinomiya stepped out. Sōma briefly wondered how all of them fit in the same space.

"Kuga-senpai? Is something the matter?" Takumi asked.

"That sly bastard Isshiki! He's always watching! But he's not going to get me, oh no. He's going to be getting his soon," Terunori said, his words bleeding into one another in a sibilant hiss as his eyes darted across the walls.

"Isshiki-senpai is driving us insane," Sōma summed up for the newcomers.

"Did he flash you or something?" Takumi asked.

"Nah, he did a lot worse. Hard to explain, now that I think about it. That's probably why he did it."

Terunori had left by then, probably off to track Satoshi down. He barely remembered to take his phone with him before it buzzed with another hair-raising message ( _"Aren't you forgetting something, Kuga-san? :O How unlike you!"_ ) and was soon blazing down the hall, shouting incoherently about stupid idiots who should spend their time modeling for figure drawing classes rather than cooking.

"So, that happened," Sōma said, watching the older man race away.

"I was going to go look for Isshiki-senpai right now, actually, but maybe I'll save that for later," Akira muttered, rubbing his temple. "He had some good ideas with cardamom that we were discussing in between his sudden outbursts of singing and nostalgic recollections of working in the fields."

"Yeah, I'd save that for after Terunori gets done attempting to shout at him. I swear, that guy is like a brick wall, sometimes."

"Which guy?" Takumi asked.

"Yes."

"A _hem_." Erina sliced into the conversation with a loud cough. She and Akira had sat in the couch that Terunori just vacated while Inui, Takumi, and Shinomiya just stood around. "Thank you. Now, what was this harebrained plan of Isshiki-senpai's to meet in his room later?"

"Something about another party to celebrate our youth," Sōma said with a sigh. "Man, I wouldn't go, but I'd be kinda hard to miss. Distinctive hair color or something."

None of the other alumni bothered to say anything about that.

"Ooh, another party? Kojirō-senpai, are you planning to go?" Inui asked.

"I've got work to do," he responded tersely.

"Firing another sous chef? What would Fuyumi-senpai think of you being so harsh on him?" Inui said, sounding almost coy near the end of her sentence.

As usual, a few seconds afterwards, she was nursing a new bruise on the top of her head.

"Is there a reason why you always aim for the top of her head, senpai?" Sōma asked, wincing sympathetically.

"Her hair deadens most of the hit," Shinomiya responded. "I'm off."

"Say hi to Megumi for me!"

"Maybe."

As soon as the older alumni had walked away (well, it would be more accurate to say as soon as Shinomiya had picked up a protesting Inui by her face and walked off with her out of earshot), Akira let out a sigh. "I wonder if we'll ever turn out that weird one day," he commented nonchalantly.

"It depends on if Erina ever lets me pick her up by the face," Sōma said.

"Yukihira-kun, the day you do is the day you regret ever being born," she seethed in response.

"Ah, alright. How about Alice? Do you think she'd let Ryo or someone pick her up like that?"

Erina stuttered to a halt. For some reason, the fact that Sōma had so easily abandoned the idea of teasing her in favor of teasing her cousin bugged her, though she was relieved that he respected her enough not to tease her into doing something again. "I-I don't know," she said when she realized the three men's eyes were staring at her curiously.

"Yo!" Erina could not have been happier to hear Ikumi's voice ring out from the elevator. "Why didn't you all tell me we were having a hangout over here?" She threw an arm around Takumi's neck and squeezed. _Hard_. He struggled to regain his breath against her tight hold on him. He struggled even harder when he realized she was fighting back, drawing his face closer to her impressive chest.

"Hey, Nikumi, you better watch where you put that," Sōma said, gesturing lazily at the two of them. Ikumi blinked, glanced over at Takumi, and practically threw his head away when she realized that she had practically been forcing his face into her breast.

"Crap! Pretend that never happened!"

"I don't think I can," Takumi muttered, glad to finally be free of her arm.

A knife materialized beneath his nose. He gulped slightly when he followed the blade to Ikumi's hand, which was brandishing the utensil towards him.

 _"What was that?"_ she seethed, growling.

Sōma did not help the situation by wolf-whistling loudly from a chair.

"You are so uncouth and unrefined!" Erina sputtered at him, shocked that he would react in such a manner.

"What? They need a push!" Sōma said, not bothering to lower his voice.

 _Pot calling the kettle black,_ Akira thought wryly. "Anyways, before Ikumi-san joined us, we were talking about the gathering at Isshiki-senpai's room, right?" he said, successfully drawing their attention back to their old conversation. Erina's eyes flashed at him gratefully, her cheeks already flushed in a faint embarrassment. Sōma looked open to any idea, as usual, and Takumi and Ikumi were both bright red and steadfastly ignoring one another. _Just like old times_.

"So, what is there to really talk about this?" Sōma asked, somehow stretching his lanky form out across a tiny but comfortable armchair. One foot strayed dangerously close to where Erina was sitting, and she scowled at it until Sōma noticed and moved it away.

"Is there anything to expect from this get-together?" Akira asked him. "From what Isshiki-senpai implies, he hosted a lot of these kinds of parties while at Polar Star, and while you have your shortcomings, you're the only one here who really stayed at Polar Star while Isshiki-senpai was there."

"You're right about that... hmm..." Sōma's thoughts strayed away from him for a second. "Well, just be prepared to be asked to cook, I guess. Sometimes he springs something on you, but you smile and go along with it because that's Isshiki-senpai's way and, let's face it, we've had our experiences with his insanity during school too, even before Polar Star."

Akira and Erina grimaced at their shared memories of a nearly naked Second Seat jovially calling meetings to order and ignoring all of Nene's glares at him to be more mature.

"Anyhow, I'm sure that it's nothing out of the ordinary. People will probably come and go, though I can think of a few who might not show up at all. Since our rooms are much smaller than this common area, I'm going to guess that Isshiki-senpai only invited maybe ten people to party, so it's probably the two Generations before us and then, well, us. It's no big deal, really."

Ikumi and Takumi took his words to mean that they could relax. Akira and Erina picked up on the possible double-edged meaning of his words.

If Sōma could think of a few who wouldn't show up to the party at all, did that include Sōma himself? The former Second and Third Seats exchanged heated glances, as if daring the other to ask. Sōma observed the interaction, some unknown emotion tugging at his mind.

 _What are they thinking about?_ he found himself wondering. _And how do they know each other so well? Since when did Akira and Erina become so friendly with one another?_ Question after question steamrolled through Sōma's mind. He waved them away with a grouchy air after a while.

Finally, their miniature dispute had been settled and Erina was the one forced to do the deed. "Are you going to be at the party, Sōma-kun?" she asked, refusing to use his last name and therefore forcing herself to use his first. He didn't comment on it again, to her relief.

"Hmm? Of course. I think I'm required to."

"But do you want to be?"

Sōma's face was blank. "Why wouldn't I want to go to one of Isshiki-senpai's insane parties, during which he's probably going to hit his third stage and possibly embarrass all of us to near death until we manage to give him enough poppy seeds to actually knock him out and then be able to leave to be ready by the next morning, when he'll somehow be up at the crack of dawn as if he expects to go out into the fields again, but since he's really here, he'll spend the time walking around the hallways or slipping through the ceilings to see if he's really the only one awake, and then once someone else is up, he's going to follow them for a bit without them noticing until he's practically right next to them, and then he'll freak them out by saying something that they were thinking in the morning, and then you'll wonder how he knows that, and then he just gives you that _goddamn smile_ , and _ISSHIKI-SENPAI I KNOW THAT YOU'RE RIGHT BEHIND ME, SO STOP YOUR SNICKERING!"_

Erina and Akira blinked. They had been so caught up with Sōma's rant that they hadn't noticed the alumnus approach them, Terunori following right after him. Sōma's golden eyes flashed with both wild delight and just overall wildness as he stared directly at Satoshi after whipping his head around at the end of his rather long rant.

"Ahhh, Sōma-kun! I can't believe how much you still remember of that day! As saddening as it is, I feel my own youth slipping away, that youth which I made sure to spend gloriously with our other friends, under the sun, under the endless sky and clouds!" Satoshi sighed, the back of a hand pressed delicately on his forehead.

"You scared the living daylights out of me," Sōma muttered, leaning back into his chair.

"But then you truly felt alive! Your heart was pounding, you felt the wonder of the world clench around you, you finally felt free!"

"I felt the horror of having an older guy watch me sleep," Sōma responded in a snarky tone.

"You wound me, Sōma-kun," Satoshi said with a sigh, moving his hand from his forehead to his bare chest. "We were comrades together once!"

"Fighting the wars against death in an attempt to achieve life," Sōma recited blandly. "Yeah, I remember, senpai."

"Oh, senpai!" Akira said suddenly, his loud tone uncharacteristic of the composed chef. He looked flustered when everyone else looked at him too. "I had a question to ask you."

"Feel free to ask right now," Satoshi said, leaning against the back of Sōma's chair.

"Ah, well, I'd prefer to speak to you in private," Akira said, standing up from the sofa he had been sitting in. Satoshi seemed to stare into his eyes for a split second longer than necessary, a surprisingly serious expression on his face, making everyone nervous, but then he burst into a smile.

"Of course! I'm thinking that we need to go find someone else to assist in this venture of yours. Come, to the downstairs floors!" Satoshi grabbed Akira's wrist and ran dramatically for the elevator, pausing to hit the 'arrow down' button.

"Isshiki-senpai, don't forget to switch back," Sōma called out, sounding just like a tired parent telling their child for the hundredth time not to steal from the cookie jar. He wasn't even looking towards Satoshi at that point.

"Of course, Sōma-kun!" Satoshi said with a smile and wink, his clothes already back on and his apron stored away somewhere. "We'll see you all later in room 1929!" The elevator doors smoothly shut on his final words.

The remaining alumni watched as the floors zoomed swiftly by, only turning away when the others disembarked on the lobby floor.

"What was that rant about, Yukihira-san?" Ikumi asked, curious. "It sounded like you knew what you were talking about."

"Isshiki-senpai was a weird senpai to have as the first one you meet at Tōtsuki. That's all I'll say on the matter," Sōma said, leaning back in his seat.

* * *

"So, what was this idea that you couldn't bear to say in front of your old colleagues?" Satoshi asked quietly, looking at Akira sideways.

Akira stared resolutely ahead. "A way for them to get rid of all of their tensions at once. On the final day."

"Clever plan. Do they approve?"

"They don't know," Akira responded tersely.

"Ah, that's probably to be expected," Satoshi mused. "I personally approve of this plan, even if I don't know all of the details yet, but you're going to need to talk to some others about the, ah, logistics behind it."

"I understand," Akira said smoothly.

The elevator _ding_ ed and released them on the right floor. Satoshi pointedly ignored the stares of the few students that were in the lobby as he led Akira to a certain room, one that Akira could hear deep voices conversing with one another in.

"How do you know where exactly to go?" Akira asked suspiciously.

"Hmm? I don't know what you're talking about, Hayama-kun."

* * *

"Why are we here?" Kaede huffed. "There's never an evening roll call."

"You'll do well to remember that we've only been here for three days now," Adrian muttered under his breath.

"It feels like we've been here for centuries," Umiko groaned in response.

"I really hope this isn't another curveball," Kaede muttered before nearly throwing himself on the ground in exhaustion when the entire cast of alumni reappeared in front of them.

Well, maybe not the _entire_ cast. There were a select few of them, but the alumni there were enough to intimidate any of the students.

Yukihira Sōma, the Son of the Devil, and Mito Ikumi, known as the Meat Maestro for her sensitive care for the proteins, led the pack. Behind Sōma were Nakiri Erina, the God's Tongue; Tsukasa Eishi, the White Knight; and Kinokuni Nene, the Frozen Princess. Ikumi stood with Shinomiya Kojirō, the Magician of Légumes; and Hayama Akira, the Aromatherapist. Further behind both groups was Dōjima Gin, head of Tōtsuki himself. All of the alumni had the same expression of cold interest in the significantly diminished group of students before them.

Dōjima stepped up, Sōma and Ikumi moving to stand at his sides as he prepped the microphone in his hand. "Testing? Ah, good, it works perfectly." Dōjima smiled at them, though the joviality of the expression didn't meet his eyes. "Welcome to you, students. You've made it past the first half of the Camp, and congratulations are well-deserved at this point. By now, I'm sure you're wondering why so many of us have called you up here. In case it helps to dissuade any fears, there will be no evening classes today."

Audible sighs of relief were heard from across the room. Sōma and Ikumi exchanged a sly grin at that. Dōjima saw their short exchange and chuckled quietly.

"We have gathered you here in order to explain the next task that we are entrusting to you, students."

Immediately, the sighs of relief were cut short.

"I will have my two alumni leaders here explain the guidelines of this next task. I assure you that it might seem challenging at first, but with dedication, you will succeed."

Sōma took the microphone from Dōjima first. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat.

"Ah, hello there!" He waved his free hand awkwardly. "I'm not really that good in front of a lot of people. I'm just going to cut to the chase. Your next assignment is a Breakfast Challenge. As there are quite a few breakfast kitchens throughout this lovely resort, you won't have to go too far from the hotel. You will be taken there in groups of five, where you will be set to work with one another and cook for the three hour long breakfast period offered here at Tōtsuki Resort. Since you can't exactly serve however many customers you get with only five people, you will have sous chefs assigned, three to each of you. Your task is to make the restaurant run as smoothly as possible, with a maximum patron waiting time of fifteen minutes. Serve as many patrons as you can. Your waiters and waitresses will know exactly what to do, so there's no need to decide a floor manager, but the kitchen is yours to control. All professional chefs have agreed to ignore all of their formal training in order to follow your orders."

He handed Ikumi the microphone. "With the available time you have left in the day, you have to come up with a menu with your four co-chefs. The typical Tōtsuki Resort breakfast menu will be provided to you, but you don't have to follow it. Rather, it would be better if you didn't, since every twenty customers you get will earn you a merit, as discussed in the last task. Of course, failing to serve a customer within the allotted fifteen minutes is a strike. Five strikes and you're fired. Of course, it wouldn't be a challenge if we weren't scoring you. Yukihira-san's group of alumni will be going to each of the breakfast restaurants, making sure that it is running smoothly and that patrons are being served, while my group of alumni, including Dōjima-senpai, will be watching your kitchens through security cameras. The challenge starts tomorrow morning, and breakfast is from eight o'clock to eleven o'clock. Your groups have been pre-selected for you based on how well you get along with one another. And before you ask, yes, we have been watching how you interact."

Sōma understood the subtle message: 'we aren't creeps, so don't bother thinking that.'

"The kitchens are available right now for your use and will be open all night. The groups will be projected onto this screen" (a screen suddenly lowered behind the alumni) "so make sure you know who's in your group. Your time starts now. Good luck, students."

A list of names flashed onto the screen, and the alumni quickly left the stage as a pandemonium of movement and shouts began among the students.

"This idea is either the best one we've ever had or the absolute worst," Erina commented as they left.

"We'll see," Dōjima responded, a faint amusement coloring his tone.

* * *

 **I'm actually really proud of the name I came up with for Kuga :3 I chose to call him the Imp because a. imps are mischievous little devils associated with hell and fire (they enjoy playing with temperatures) and b. 'imp' can be short for 'imperial', which is a common adjective associated with Chinese history. There are a few tinier reasons behind why he's the imp, but based on both his cultural specialty and his heat specialty, Kuga has more than earned himself the title of being 'The Imp' to me. (if you guys caught my hints throughout these few sentences then thank you for your deductive skills)**

 **(also i apologize for kuga's cussing ;w; it started out as a reference to a jojo game (all star battle))**

 **I feel like Isshiki just knows how to push people's buttons and does so with his usual warm smile on his face. why do I love this character so much I don't know. This entire chapter was all a series of 'what-if-I's.**

 **I don't know if I've explained Nene's nickname to you. It is definitely subject to change after her specialty is revealed, but for now, I've been calling her the Frozen Princess because she seems to be Kuga's opposite and if Kuga deals with spiciness and heat, she probably deals with cold foods. Like, foods that are prepared and eaten cold. Sort of science-y like Alice, I guess, but it fit with her characterization to me.**

 **And yeah I changed Ikumi's nickname after realizing I could keep the Meat Master thing, and then I remembered that the word 'maestro' exists. There isn't a female version of it (maestra?) mostly because women maestros prefer being referred to as Maestro. The more you know, I guess.**

 **That should be all for now. If you have any questions or comments, please leave a review~**

 **-Shriayle**


	14. DAY 3: PARTY

**oh look more characters. and what do more characters mean? you get to be exposed to ALL of my ships xD**

 **This chapter... was entirely unplanned. It was supposed to be part of last chapter. Why separate the two? This one ended up needing a lot more room, background, and sensitivity behind writing it.**

 **A couple things here: since the 92nd Generation started out as around 15 in first year, I'm assuming they graduated when they were 17/18, depending on when their birthdays were. Therefore, by this point, they're around 22/23. The 91st Generation is 23/24, and the 90th Generation is 24/25. I believe this makes Shinomiya and Mizuhara around 35 and Inui around 34, but I'm not entirely certain about that math. The reason why this is important is because there are alcohol references here, but by this point these alumni are more than old enough to consume alcohol and blah blah blah underage drinking is bad and don't do it.**

 **As of right now I am responding to questions in user reviews via PM and guest reviews here. The word count is completely overexaggerated because I didn't. I also plan to erase a bunch of responses in the editing process, since I don't think they're necessary to understand the story. I'll probably be rid of most of these A/Ns as well.**

 **GUEST REPLIES:**

 **Ken18:** Jealous Sōma is jealous :P

* * *

 _BRIEF OMAKE TIME:_

As the alumni walked offstage, one in particular let out a huge breath. "I'm so happy that's over."

Sōma glanced back at the speaker. "What, being onstage?"

"Of course," the other responded somewhat indignantly. "Every time I have to d-deal with something that isn't just _cooking_ I just get so nervous that I c-can't even function that well..." Immediately the man's practically white eyes became hooded and he grabbed the two sides of his head. "Even now I'm getting so nervous just thinking about it. Will they know what to do? How to treat the patrons? Everything has to be perfect or else we have to be rid of them! Each student is another five minutes of paperwork we have to put in to make sure no parents try and sue us!"

"Tsukasa-senpai, you aren't even the one doing the paperwork this time," Nene said, completely deadpan.

"Ahht-t-t-t! Don't remind me about paperwork! And we need to make sure that all of the patrons are treated well! The chair quality should be enough to suit them... oh, are the sous chefs good enough to make sure they can focus on their cooking?! If they can't focus on their cooking, then how will they do well? What if the waiters are the ones that bring out the food too late?! Ahht-t-t-t-t-t-t!"

"What was that sound you just made, senpai?" Sōma asked, blinking. "It sounded like a flustered bird or something."

"A bird is accurate enough for the way I felt the entirety of Tōtsuki," Tsukasa muttered under his breath.

"If you aren't comfortable with being in front of the students, then why are you here, senpai?" Ikumi asked rather bluntly.

The rate at which Tsukasa immediately deflated reminded the other alumni of a balloon that had been punctured by a needle. "I-I need the practice, I need to be used to being in front of other people..." he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.

Ikumi took pity on the guy. "Would it be less stressful if you just dealt with the menus and let us do all of the rest of the work, then?"

 _OMAKE END_

* * *

"Oooh, this'll be exciting, don't you think, Alice-chan?"

The white-haired woman smirked and glanced sideways at the initial speaker. "Why, I don't know if I understand what you're saying," she said sweetly, touching her finger to her lips coyly.

"Don't give me that," the other woman said, playfully glaring at her. She flicked a lock of raspberry-colored hair over her shoulder inadvertently as she flung her hands out wide in front of her. "I didn't expect Tsukasa's email to be something _this_ big! And I get to be part of the group sampling everything! It's like the Moon Festival all over again!" She giggled with glee, clapping her hands together in excitement.

Before Alice could respond, she heard someone yell "Oi! Over here!" from behind her. She smirked before turning, already recognizing the voice.

"Yukihira-saaaaaan!" Alice sang out, twirling around to see the red-haired chef hurriedly speed-walking over to her. Her hair floated in the wind around her, as if a halo. She was rather satisfied with the effect it gave: an ethereal ring of light around her head. She had grown her hair out specifically for that purpose, after all.

"Konbanwa," he said casually, waving his hand. A few others walked at a much more sedate pace behind him. "The students are preparing for the challenge tomorrow. Thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"Why did you want us, anyways?" the other woman asked, startling Sōma, who hadn't noticed her in the dusky light. He glanced over and squinted, taking in her yellow eyes, feline smirk, and dark pink hair, before smiling happily at her.

"Heya, Kobayashi-senpai! Well, as we were talking about the challenge" (he gestured towards the six other alumni that were with him, all of whom were steadfastly ignoring him) "we realized that there were some students we had higher expectations for than others. Y'know, like how everyone expected Erina to do amazingly at everything and didn't expect much from Megumi and so on and so forth. So we decided that we needed an outsider's opinion in case we don't do a good enough job at deciding people fairly ourselves!"

Alice giggled and clapped with glee. "How exciting!" she said, red eyes sparkling with delight. She immediately readopted her calm poise. "So when do our duties start?"

"And when can I start looking at menus?" Kobayashi asked, giving the others a dog-toothed grin. Nene and Ikumi immediately glanced over at Tsukasa, who was reading through a few dozen papers in his hands, barely glancing up at the two new arrivals but looking more at ease than he had throughout the evening announcement (then again, his brow was still pinched with worry and he seemed to have some dark circles already forming beneath his eyes).

"Kobayashi-san, always thinking about your stomach," Tsukasa said with a sigh as he shuffled the aforementioned menus around. Kobayashi's eyes lit up as she finally saw him, as well as the menus.

"Tsukasa, you idiot! What did you expect from me?" she asked, striking a rather confident pose and winking. The white-haired man began to stutter and looked away from his Second Seat. Kobayashi just directed her grin at him before walking over and poking him mercilessly, bugging him for details on the new students and trying to snatch the papers out of his hands.

Sōma watched the interaction with a slight hint of bemusement before shrugging it off. "Dojima-senpai sent us here to show you where your rooms'll be," he said, digging through his pocket in search of the elusive card keys he was entrusted with. "Is this it?... nope, that's mine. Where..."

"Your right jacket pocket," Erina said, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, thanks Erina!" Sōma chirped as he dug through the pocket in question and found the keys. He handed one to each of the other women. "We're on the nineteenth floor. Come on."

"I'm still not sure why we all had to come out here," Akira muttered under his breath. A couple of the other alumni hummed in agreement.

"Does that mean you didn't want to see me?" Alice asked, poking her bottom lip out in a slight, teasing pout as she skipped up to him. Akira just glared at her.

"I've heard more than enough from you from all of the emails you keep sending me at random hours at night," he said somewhat viciously.

"Random hours at night..? Oh, different time zones. My bad, Hayama-san," Alice said with a giggle, just realizing that a normal time in Denmark was less than a normal time in Japan. She didn't bother to be sincere about her apology, knowing that Akira would automatically take it as anything but. Of course, the male chef just huffed in annoyance and sped up his walking, though she kept up with him easily. This sparked a whole new round of teasing whining in which Alice complained that Akira really must not have wanted to see her and how hurt she was. The dark-skinned chef resolutely ignored her.

Erina was more than a little confused by the exchange. Alice had never bugged someone so incessantly since Ryo managed to beat her in a Shokugeki in their third year and finally freed himself from her reign. They had remained friends, still contacting one another and exchanging tips the way most of the 92nd Generation did, but now the dog-like loyalty that Ryo was supposed to show had turned into a friendly respect for another chef. Ever since, Alice had shut down her playful mannerisms in favor of her cold yet eternally cheerful demeanor, but they were resurfacing, apparently.

"Oh, and there's going to be a party in 1929 later tonight," Sōma told the newcomers after the group of alumni managed to avoid being seen by any students and piled into an elevator. It was a tight enough squeeze, but it was slightly alleviated when some of the others decided to just take the next available elevator up. "Be prepared to stay up as late as the students will."

"Party? Is it, by chance, hosted by the bare-skinned kouhai that I remember loved celebrating life?" Kobayashi asked, her arms around Tsukasa's shoulders in a vain attempt to grab at the menus he was somehow still holding. "Tsukaaaasaaaaa," she complained a heartbeat later. when her efforts didn't give any results.

"The very same," Erina said, pointedly ignoring the two older chefs.

"How exciting!" Kobayashi purred around Tsukasa's halfhearted stammers for her to get off of him.

Before anyone could say anything else, the elevator _ding!_ ed to let them know that they were on the nineteenth floor. Sōma dutifully held the 'OPEN' button so that the five others with him could get out of the elevator before slipping out himself.

As expected, Satoshi was waiting in the foyer for them. Unexpectedly, he was wearing a button-up shirt and black pants that could have been seen as formal.

"You have returned, all of you!" he said, opening his arms in a grandiose manner as if to hug all of them at once. Kobayashi immediately detached herself from Tsukasa, much to the white-haired chef's relief, and dashed over to him, her gaze set sternly.

"I heard there was a party. We're going. Now." She immediately steered Satoshi away by the shoulders, pushing him along in her excitement. He just laughed and walked away in response, saying, "You don't even know where your room is, Kobayashi-senpai."

"Why did we choose to invite the two oddest alumni we know?" Akira asked flatly, still irked by Alice's constant presence next to him.

"Ehhh?! You think I'm odd, Hayama-san?" Alice asked, faking a hurt look.

"You're the strangest person I ever met, you never listen to anyone before running off and doing your own thing, and you don't ever listen to anything anyone tells you, just because you can get away with looking cute," Akira snarled at her. "Of _course_ I think you're odd."

"Aww, you think I look cute?"

"That's not my point!"

"Akira hasn't been that riled up all week," Sōma commented, looking on as Akira seemed to actually lose his cool at a once again pouting Alice.

"I'll say," Erina agreed, staring after her cousin and former Third Seat. "They get along surprisingly well."

"You think that's getting along?" Sōma asked, incredulous, pointing at the two bickering chefs.

"Trust me. I've known Alice for far too long. They're getting along very well," Erina muttered.

"Then what does not getting along look like?"

"This." Erina sighed before turning to Alice. "I'm taking your luggage to your room."

"No! You're a meanie, you'll probably stuff it with brie or something!" Alice huffed immediately, dashing away from Akira to grab at the luggage and pull it away from Erina's grip while giving the blonde a baleful look.

"I don't have enough brie to ruin all of your things."

"Aha! You said _all of my things_! So you have enough to sabotage _some of them_?!" Alice looked more offended now as she glared at Erina (Akira looked more than amused by this turn of events). "How am I related to someone who's so mean to me?"

"How is Erina being mean to you?" Sōma piped up, confused by the exchange.

Alice gaped at him. "Just look at her! She's devious enough to steal my toys from me when we were younger" ("That was one time, and we were five!") "and she tore down club rooms just to expand her influence and get more personal kitchens while we were at Tōtsuki!"

"To be fair, Megumi, Shun, and I did a lot of that as well," Sōma said somewhat sheepishly. When the other three looked at him, mildly appalled, he raised his hands and waved them slightly to convey his nonchalance. "When you're at Polar Star and you're looked at as the Second Golden Age, you do anything to expand your influence. Don't you remember all of our Shokugeki in second year?" When the other three nodded, Sōma smiled at them. "Polar Star claims more than a third of Tōtsuki's grounds now, thanks to our combined efforts. Took a surprisingly short amount of time, to be honest. We thought that we would need to convince our kouhais to do the same."

"What?!" the other three found themselves shouting at once.

"I don't remember any of that being true," Erina hissed, suspicious. "Polar Star didn't bring in enough demolition teams to fully raze even a quarter of Tōtsuki lands, let alone more than a third of them."

"Just because we claimed the land didn't mean we demolished everything," Sōma said, waving a hand freely as if to brush the idea away. "Most of it, the other clubs still used. They were just required to tell us what they were doing, what the land was being used for, etcetera etcetera. It was Megumi's idea to make sure we were updated, and I'm more than happy that she convinced us to do it. Shun wanted us to make them pay to use the land, but Megumi and I overruled that idea since it would bleed a bunch of okay Research Societies dry."

"I somehow can't imagine Tadokoro-san being the type to demand club lands just for the sake of her dormitory," Akira mentioned, thinking of the gentle-voiced blue-haired girl he knew from school.

"I was as surprised as you are when she suggested it," Sōma said with a shrug. "I guess Isshiki-senpai needed more land to plant more crops and since he refused to fight for anymore, Megumi decided we all needed more land. I didn't really do much with it, but having a private kitchen was kinda cool, I guess. And Akira, you asked to use some of the lands too; how didn't you know how much Polar Star owned?"

"Jun just handed her plot of land over to your dorm lady, and formalities required that I asked permission to use them," Akira pointed out. "That doesn't count as it being seized via Shokugeki."

"The plot of land where you had that huge network of greenhouses for spices was where the Seafood Research Association was. Megumi herself took them down with one of her goosefish dishes and oversaw the demolition of their building," Sōma revealed. Akira was slightly taken aback by this revelation.

"I remember that Shokugeki. Why would Megumi tear down the Seafood Research Association? Isn't that part of her specialty now?" Alice asked, tilting her head slightly like a confused cat.

"There was already a Seafood Research Society," Erina said. "It was redundant and only students who were rejected from the RS were in the Association. They wasted school funds shipping in foreign fish and seeing what could be eaten raw or not. A rash of food poisoning broke out among them, but as soon as enough people were feeling better they would just order more. It was both unsanitary and a waste of school funds."

"What Erina said," Sōma said with another lazy wave of his hand, gesturing towards the blonde. "Isshiki-senpai actually came to us to take care of it. Something about wanting us to get used to the challenge."

"Remembering third year, I can see why he wanted you to have the practice," a voice behind Alice said wryly. The four alumni glanced back to see Ikumi and Takumi, the former's arms crossed in front of her chest, the latter steadily ignoring her. "Yukihira-san alone had to deal with more than eight challenges a month," Ikumi clarified.

"Hey, at least most of that year was an independent study period," Sōma said with a shrug. After stopping at Alice's room so she could put her things in order, they headed to 1929. They walked in silence down the hallway.

By this time, all six alumni were in front of Satoshi's room. They looked apprehensively at the thick block of oak. From within the room came the sounds of loud laughter and quiet murmurs, as well as sizzling and other sounds of cooking.

"Do the rest of you feel this nervous about this?" Takumi muttered, glancing suspiciously at the door.

"Probably," Akira answered.

"Well, no time like the present," Sōma said, raising his hand to knock on the door.

A second before he did so, the door swung open, smacking Sōma's forehead and sending him reeling back onto the floor. The red-haired chef hissed in pain as he clutched at his face, nursing the growing bruise.

"Ah, sorry Yukihira-san!" Satoshi said, sounding completely unapologetic and completely amused. "Didn't expect you to be right outside of the door."

"How did you know we were out here?" Ikumi asked, but Satoshi just ushered the 92nd Generation alumni in with a smile.

Nene glanced up, having heard the _THUMP_ of Sōma's head against the door. She wordlessly passed him a pack of frozen peas that had been innocently lying on the table next to her. They were surprisingly still cold. Sōma didn't bother to question why Nene was so prepared for Satoshi's nonsense and just thankfully took the peas and put them on his still throbbing forehead.

"Now that that's out of the way, Nikumi-kun! There's something I want to show you!" Terunori sang out from his position on Satoshi's bed. He was hanging off of it, his head completely upside down as he somehow shoveled a bright red mixture of fried rice and other vegetables into his mouth.

"You're such a pig," Nene muttered as she grimaced at his openly chewing mouth. She held a cup of tea in her hands that she occasionally sipped from.

"Kinokuni-kun! Don't be such a downer! We've already got one right here!" Kobayashi crooned, wrapping an arm around Tsukasa again. "It took me _way_ too long to get him to put those papers down and relax a bit! Don't be a Tsukasa, mmkay?"

"Yes, Kobayashi-senpai," Nene intoned, as if she had already heard that enough times (in all honesty, she probably had).

"This isn't a time to worry!" Satoshi sang out, flinging his clothes off and into inexistence as he stepped forward, clad in his apron. "We are returning to our youth here! There is no need to think of the adult responsibilities that are heaped upon our shoulders now!"

"Does anyone else think that Isshiki-senpai is going a bit too far this time?" Takumi asked his former classmates. All five of them nodded to him with the exact same expression, one that read _"He always does"_.

"There's no sense in just standing around," Ikumi said with a sigh before walking over to Terunori. "Call me Nikumi again and I'll cream you, Impy," she snarled at him.

"Who came up with that nickname anyhow?" Terunori said with a sigh. "It doesn't suit me whatsoever! Even Yukihira-chin's names are cooler than mine, and I beat him in every way!"

"Height?" Nene pointed out.

"SHUT UP, BRAIDS GIRL! I'VE HEARD ENOUGH OF THAT FROM THE KIDS TODAY!"

Ikumi's temper was starting to escape her. Therefore, it only made sense that she pulled out one of her many hidden knives and pointed it straight at Terunori. "You might have outclassed me in the Ten, but I'm warning you."

"Your silly blades don't scare me," he responded hotheadedly.

"Anyone want to toast something?" Alice chirped, stealing the spotlight again as she held up a bottle of champagne and a tray with more than enough flutes to serve it with.

"Where did that come from?" Akira asked, jumping slightly when she revealed her alcohol.

"Hmm... a small town in France?" Alice responded, examining the champagne bottle closely, as if reading the elegant script that covered the label. After staring at it intently, she turned and beamed at him. "I can't read French. That's Tadokoro-chan's specialty."

"You live in Denmark," Akira deadpanned.

"Yes, and?"

"Isn't France only a few hundred miles away from Denmark?"

"Yes, and?"

Akira was slowly but surely losing his cool again. "Don't you buy fresh ingredients every week and a good deal of your machinery from France?"

"Yes, and?" Alice looked more amused than anything now. She had cracked the champagne bottle open over the sink and was beginning to fill her flutes with the light alcohol.

"...you know what, never mind," Akira muttered.

"Aww, you're giving up on your train of thought so soon?" Alice whined as she passed champagne around, primarily forcing the other alumni to take the flutes

. "How lame."

" _Nakiri Alice, I swear on the heavens above―_ "

"Give it up, she'll just get more annoying," Erina said with a sigh, accepting one of the flutes that Alice shoved at her after the white-haired woman didn't let Erina refuse it. Alice pouted at both the way Erina referred to her and the way that she deftly cut off Alice's source of amusement.

Sōma took the flute with a wry grin, glancing at its contents. "Man, this really reminds me of our old parties now," he said with a nonchalant laugh before preparing to drink it.

Only Satoshi, Takumi, and Ikumi didn't freak out at this revelation.

"You had alcohol in high school?!" Erina shrieked. "That is a violation of our school's code of conduct! You could have been expelled!"

"For once, I agree with my cousin," Alice said, looking perturbed.

"I'm not even going to ask who managed to get alcohol from somewhere," Akira muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Why would you bother with this pansy crap, anyhow?" Terunori asked, grimacing at the champagne that Alice forced upon him. His nose wrinkled at its dry, fruity scent. "Give me a good cinnamon whisky any day."

"Why wasn't I invited to those parties?" Kobayashi asked with a pout.

"That isn't really the point right now, Kobayashi," Tsukasa tried to get her to notice, but the cat-like woman was too busy being annoyed to care.

"Guys, guys! Chill out! One of our dorm-mates was into the rice fermentation business! It wasn't alcoholic at all," Sōma said, downing the champagne in one gulp immediately afterwards. "This stuff isn't really that strong," he commented, wincing slightly at the fizzing against his tongue.

"Champagne isn't consumed to make you drunk, Yukihira-san," Alice said with a sigh before walking over to refill his flute, not listening to Sōma's protests. "You have to embrace its taste, love its flavor, savor it!"

"I'd rather just cook with it," Sōma muttered, giving Alice a baleful glare before swallowing all of the champagne in one more gulp and giving a triumphant look to a rather put-out Alice. The white-haired woman determinedly refilled his glass.

"Are you trying to get him drunk on champagne, Nakiri-san?" Akira asked, slowly drinking the alcohol she had forced on him so that he didn't have to deal with the looming bottle. "Because I don't think anyone wants to deal with a hungover Yukihira-kun tomorrow."

"Pssh, call me Alice-san, having two Nakiris in the same room is confusing enough," Alice said dismissively. "And I just want Sōma to enjoy the alcohol." Akira answered that request with a glare.

Half an hour later, Sōma had steadfastly refused any more champagne, going so far as to threaten to pour any that Alice gave him on top of her head. She had backed away immediately. Even so, he was mildly tipsy, though nowhere near drunk enough to prevent him from functioning. Erina just shook her head at Sōma's stubbornness and Alice's persistence.

"Look what you've done," she hissed at her innocent-looking cousin.

"It's not my fault that he refused to enjoy the champagne," Alice sniffed. She took a long sip of her own flute (her second) and sighed, enjoying the flavor of the alcohol. "Do you like it, Erina?"

"So disrespectful, Alice-kun," Erina said with a sniff. "And it's palatable, though not the best I've had."

"Your usual response," Alice said with a sigh. "I tried my best."

"You just bought a random expensive brand, didn't you?"

Alice smiled innocently at Erina.

Takumi had also attempted to be rid of the alcohol as quickly as possible but shrank back when Alice just refilled his flute over and over again. He was now just refusing to drink it altogether. Satoshi had reached what Sōma called his 'third form' and was now prancing about the room clad only in what looked suspiciously like a scanty swimsuit, much to the others' amusement. Kobayashi was still terrorizing Tsukasa and prodding him whenever he got distracted, though he just blushed furiously when she pouted at him and told him to loosen up. Nene was just observing the nonsense around her while still sipping her tea, somehow able to convince Alice that she didn't want any alcohol. Ikumi and Terunori were still in a fierce discussion over the usage of spices when marinating meats, Terunori favoring the use of the most violent spices he knew to create an intense burn and Ikumi favoring mild spices that showcased only the taste of the meat itself. Akira looked mildly interested in their conversation and occasionally added in his own commentary, though Alice bothered him whenever he didn't pay enough attention to her.

At one point, Akira shouted, "I'M NOT YOUR SECRETARY OR YOUR SERVANT, SO PIPE DOWN, ALICE!"

To which she had, of course, responded with "Since when was I Alice to you?"

The others thoroughly distracted, Erina approached Sōma. "Sōma-kun, what did your father call you about?"

He was far more light-hearted now than he had been earlier that day, probably from the champagne. "Ne, Erina, so straightforward, aren't ya?" he responded, his face slightly flushed and his mind at ease, none of his wariness showing.

"Answer the question, Sōma-kun. I need to know, if only to reassure myself."

Sōma leaned back, sighing to himself. "I don't know what it is you want to hear, Erina. He called me about a development in my personal life and stuff. Do you really want to hear about my personal life?"

"Yes," she said before thinking. Her face immediately reddened afterwards, thinking about the consequences of her words.

"I didn't think you cared so much," Sōma commented, blinking. He then proceeded to rapidly blink for a moment to regain his bearings before sighing and rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so stubborn about that champagne. I'm getting a headache."

"Well?" Erina persisted.

"Tell you what, Erina, I'll tell you tomorrow while we make our rounds of the students' restaurants," Sōma said. "I can't think straight right now. I wouldn't want to tell you about the time my dad got me to dress up as a chicken when I was six to promote the restaurant's newest dishes or something."

Erina blinked at the random memory. "What?"

"Ah, crap. Pretend you didn't hear that."

"She might not have heard it, but I sure did, Yukihira-san," Alice said, having only heard the last part of the conversation in between bothering Akira and adding her own insight into how capsaicin affected people's taste buds and such. "Now you have to tell all of us."

"I don't think so," Sōma grumbled in response. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for that to happen."

"We can change that, Yukihira-san," Alice said teasingly, lifting her bottle slightly.

"If I see that bottle again, its contents are going all over your hair," Erina said with a disgusted sniff.

And, as she predicted, Alice leaned away, gasping in shock and recoiling into Akira, who looked less than pleased by how close she was to him. "How dare you, Erina! Always bullying me! You're such a meanie! Tell her, Akira-san, tell her that she's a meanie!"

"Don't call me Akira-san," Akira growled at her.

"Aww, but Yukihira-san does," Alice said with a pout.

Akira felt a strong urge to smack the wall with his forehead. "Yukihira-kun is on a whole other level of crazy than you are."

"But Akira-san suits you," Alice said, staring at him with wide eyes that would have seemed more than innocent were they not bright red.

"I don't care, Nakiri-chan," Akira snarled.

"She's right though, Akira! The name 'Akira' suits you far more than 'Hayama' does. You should be proud of your name," Sōma said, giving the dark-skinned chef a thumbs up and his usual determined yet blank face.

"Stay out of this, Yukihira-kun," Akira said to him venomously.

"Yeah, go back to flirting with Erina so I can mess around with Akira-san some more," Alice said playfully.

"Don't call me Akira-san!"

"You blame _us_ for flirting? Don't make me laugh, Alice," Erina said with a scoff.

Though Akira then demonstrated just how red his face could turn, Alice maintained her pale complexion and just looked slightly put out. "Just because you're not as successful as I am at flirting doesn't mean you have to be so upset at me," she said, sticking out her tongue at Erina.

Akira and Sōma exchanged an awkward glance as the two cousins began to argue, Erina blushing as she glanced over at Sōma with looks of horror at the fact that he was actually listening to this insanity, Alice taking the time to wink at Akira and reduce him to a spluttering mess.

"Yukihira-san! Hayama-san! Who wants to help me prepare the next round of snacks?" Satoshi sang out to the bickering 92nd Generation alumni, completely oblivious to their conversation though the others were watching with more than a little amused interest.

"I do!" both men said in unison, scrambling away from the arguing cousins, thankful for the escape from the awkwardness of their situation.

* * *

 **ahhhh all of my ships are probably not yours :3c I do not care about your opinion when it comes to this, I refuse to change anything. Anyyythiiinnngggggggg. Also the Alice/Hayama comes from their interactions at the Moon Festival. Let's talk about that for a second. Alice is a rather stubborn lass, which Ryo openly allows to happen (he tells Hayama to flatter Alice when he's talking to her, etc.) most likely because he is just fulfilling his duty as Alice's assistant. However, Hayama isn't one to let that happen. And even if her first response is to pout about it for a day, Alice ends up listening to him and fundamentally changing her style, just because he told her what would and wouldn't work. I just. My heart. these are the ships i sail. They will probably not be any more romantically involved than the pointed arguments and barbed comments, though. Japan and Denmark are a bit too far apart to make a relationship of that magnitude work. Shame.**

 **Also Tsukasa's remark in the omake about feeling like a bird? Think about it. Rindō. Cat. Eishi. Bird. What to cats do? Play with their food. What would Rindō do to Eishi? :3c (I'm not sure how I stand in terms of shipping Eishi and Rindō together. It would be cute, but Rindō practically terrorizes the guy sometimes)**

 **Since I've started college now (finally), I will probably not have anywhere near as much time to write this story as I have in the past month or so. Fear not; one of my real-life friends knows I am writing this and is keeping up with it, and she promises that she'll bug me once it's been too long since the last update. I don't see myself slowing down with this story anytime soon, either. The one part I've really wanted to write is coming up, after all.**

 **Also, being underage myself at this time, I've never actually had champagne. I'm only guessing as to what the flavor profile is in this chapter. If you guys have experience drinking champagne (I won't question how or why) and you want to correct me, feel free to do so :P**

 **-Shriayle**


	15. DAY 4: BREAKFAST CHALLENGE

**You will be happy with this chapter. I think.**

 **Sorry for making you wait for so long! College has officially started, and I only have time to do anything that isn't class on Wednesdays, Fridays, and weekends, which sounds like a lot of time, but homework takes precedence every time. I've also got a new idea for another Shokugeki story, but it won't be S** **ōma/Erina in the way you think of them. You'll see what I mean when I decide to release it.**

 **WARNING: Sōma might seem slightly OOC here. This is because I couldn't reconcile the image of how I wanted the scene to go with his exact canon representation. Sorry.**

 **GUEST REPLIES:**

 **Ken18:** College is fun :D I love my housemates so much~ | **hellohello:** Hello hello to you too! And that's a huge compliment, thank ye~ | **Entei:** Ahhhh, if only. | **John M:** Thanks for the champagne help! And your support. That's just as important :D | **Ty:** Thank you! I appreciate it! | **Alex:** Sōma's a sneaky little devil, yes. | **Tora-chan:** Akira always seemed like the calm one in the 92nd Generation :P And I've got a name I like for Ryo right now, though it's a bit more complicated than it seems.

* * *

The morning silence was broken by the sounds of frantic shouting and pounding feet. Students argued as they darted back and forth, finish up final preparations and delivering half-incomprehensible orders to the professional chefs, who just shrugged and did exactly what they were told to. Of course, not many students were really accustomed to dealing with giving orders to helpers, which meant that many had to go through and fix a lot of the unexplained technical problems that the older chefs willingly performed.

All the while, a group of adults, both young and slightly older, were watching from behind glass screens, analyzing about one hundred and twenty different images of pristine white chefs and less coordinated students rush about in the metallic gleam of stainless steel. One in particular winced as a pot of soup crashed down from a rushing student's clumsy hands and splattered across the floor.

"You'd think that they'd have outgrown that," Shinomiya said bluntly, rubbing his temples at the waste of food.

"Not everyone is going to go into a restaurant or kitchen setting," Ikumi objected, crossing her arms across her chest and staring over at the pink-haired chef. She herself was heir of the Mito Company, leader in the meat industry and definitely not a kitchen setting.

"And thank goodness for that," Akira muttered, watching as students just hurriedly shoved ingredients into pots and pans without really tasting or smelling them. He shook his head lightly in disapproval of their haste and lack of care.

"Everything is so quaint," Alice marveled, still standing dangerously close to Akira (he was steadily ignoring this detail) and leaning forward to stare into one monitor in particular. The students in it were preparing some kind of egg dish, shouting at one another as they plated. She was unable to find what she was looking for, apparently, since she then leaned back and huffed in indignation. "That station doesn't even have a Gastrovac. I thought that all kitchens had those now."

"Not all of us are interested in molecular gastronomy, Nakiri-san," Ikumi pointed out.

"But a Gastrovac is standard kitchenware, used by everyone from beginners to experts in the cooking field!" Alice objected, sounding offended.

"The students are stumbling," Dōjima cut in, his voice a low rumble. "Not many are used to working in this kind of high-paced environment."

"By not many, you're not including those groups, right?" Ikumi pointed out, gesturing to about ten screens conveniently clustered together. She noticed that one of the groups included the dark-haired girl that Sōma had noticed before, as well as her orange- and pink-haired friends. Two more students, obviously just as well-versed with working with the other three, were fumbling around the kitchen, looking even more disjointed in comparison to the other three's mechanical precision and exact movements.

By coincidence, Dōjima seemed to focus on the same group that Ikumi did. He leaned in, a smile on his face, as he watched the group.

"Yes, Restaurant 49 seems to be doing very well, don't you think?" he said, smiling at the other alumni in the room. "The three 'main chefs' seem to all have experience in the kitchen somehow."

"Mun Seoyun," Alice read from the stack of papers she had been handed on each student. She picked up the clipboard with all five students from Restaurant 49. "From Seoul. Trained in her family's diner. Reminds me of a certain red-haired alumnus." She smirked slightly and made to turn the page when Akira took the clipboard away from him. The white-haired woman turned to the dark-skinned man and pouted, filling one of her cheeks with air and fixing a somewhat fake looking glare on him as she did so.

Akira rolled his eyes at her childishness. He flicked the pages over the top of the clipboard, glancing at the other students working with Seoyun. "Yamaguchi Kaede. Oh, he's American, it seems. He worked for six restaurants in the past, each with a different style and kind of food, each with their own varied type of required preparation techniques. Minami Umiko, from Japan's seaside, no formal training in a restaurant, but it looks as though she's been drilled in what to do by the other two and is working as hard as possible to keep up." He glanced at the other two pages. "These last two students received no formal training from anywhere but Tōtsuki and their only connection with the first three are that they get along, somewhat. They're not as used to Yamaguchi-kun and Mun-kun's habits and such."

"Makes sense," Ikumi said, cocking her head to the side. "I can definitely see how that could happen."

"What do you mean by that?" Shinomiya asked, watching the other screens. "If they're incompetent, then they're incompetent."

"But they're not hindering their team," Alice pointed out. "The less skilled ones are staying in preparation, helping the sous chefs do their jobs while not hindering the other three, who are remaining in charge of the kitchen. I would assume that they have discussed this beforehand. Perhaps the other two contributed recipes and chose to stay behind because they knew of this teamwork between the other three."

"Perhaps."

The alumni turned their attention to another screen. Shinomiya smirked in appreciation when he saw the robotic efficiency of the students in that one.

"Everything is coming out of the kitchen looking perfect, practically indistinguishable from one another."

"It's because of that student," Akira said, tapping the glass screen where one black-haired boy was snapping at the other chefs, adult and student alike. "He sees the inconsistencies and points them out, telling the others to fix it so that they can serve as many people the same thing as quickly as possible. Smart."

Alice put down the first clipboard and picked up another. "That's Shen Adrian. Came to Tōtsuki from China, though he seems to have been adopted from England when he was eight. He has both sides of the culture influencing his style, but his main talent is being able to see dishes and immediately decompose them, no tasting or smelling required. He has the keenest and most gastronomical sense of sight that the Academy has seen thus far." Alice's face immediately split into a wide grin. "Dibs on him."

"You can have him if you can convince him," Dōjima said with a laugh. "He's the top contender for next year's second year first seat in the Elite Ten. Depending on how many students bypass him or how many potential third years don't pass this year, he will probably get the Fifth or Sixth Seat."

Ikumi let out a low whistle. "So, he's pretty good, then."

"More than just 'pretty good,'" Shinomiya said, snorting at the understatement. "I'd be surprised if a professional restaurant hasn't picked him up yet."

"He's gotten offers, actually," Alice said, her eyebrows rising as she read through the rest of Adrian's file. "And from some prestigious places. He apparently turned them all down, asking them to wait until he finished his education." The gears in her head began to turn at the challenge of convincing Adrian to work for her.

"That's a dangerous path to tread," Shinomiya pointed out. "Any professional restaurant can give more education in a summer than Tōtsuki could in the same breadth of time. Depending on how good the restaurant is, of course."

Alice hummed in agreement. "The other four in his group seem to be rather arbitrary. They have worked together in class, but they all acknowledge Adrian as the keystone of the restaurant and are therefore not as inclined to take part in what's happening back there. They would rather leave him to lead the restaurant alone and take care of the more mundane tasks in exchange."

"Yes, people like to follow the one that looks like they're in charge," Dōjima mused. "Unfortunately, that's not what the task requires."

"They're efficient though, you have to give them credit for that," Ikumi said.

"I wonder how the on-foot people are doing?" Akira mused.

* * *

"Aaaaah, this is so much fun! Next place, next place!" An excited mass of raspberry colored hair left her compatriots yards behind in her haste.

"How does she still have so much energy?" Tsukasa grumbled as he, Sōma, Erina, and Nene hurried to catch up to Kobayashi. "We've already been to twenty restaurants in the past half an hour."

"You've gotta work hard to get to everywhere in three hours!" Kobayashi responded, sounding almost offended by his lack of enthusiasm.

"Our colleagues in the back are going to tell us which restaurants should be tested, anyhow," Tsukasa pointed out. "We don't need to hit every single one."

Kobayashi looked at him with confused eyes. "I don't understand."

"Never mind," he said with a sigh.

"Lighten up, Tsukasa-senpai!" Sōma said with a loud laugh, smacking the flustered white-haired man on the back good-naturedly. "Let's just work hard to grade every student as best as we can, eh?"

Erina snorted. "We're not even grading the students. We're glancing at each restaurant to see if they're working efficiently and maybe tasting their 'signature dish'. That is nowhere near enough to fully test their abilities as restaurateurs."

Sōma looked at her with an expression that mimicked Kobayashi's exact feelings from earlier. "I don't understand."

"Two sides of the same coin," Nene murmured from the back, rolling her eyes when no one else was looking.

They were about to walk up to the next restaurant when Sōma's phone rang. He picked up and said, "Hello?"

 _"Pass that restaurant by. The students have failed consistently and are fired."_ Dōjima's voice rang from the speaker.

"Should I at least tell the patrons?" Sōma asked, glancing sideways at the offending restaurant.

 _"Good idea. Cut off all kitchen activity as soon as possible."_

"Yes sir." The line clicked off and Sōma stashed the phone away. "That's the third restaurant closed."

Kobayashi pouted. "I wanted to taste its food, though!"

"All for the better," Tsukasa said with a sigh. "Let's redirect the patrons to the next available restaurant."

They set off to do just that.

* * *

Dōjima sighed as the kitchen cleared out. "And that's another one."

"They kept burning their food because their preparation time was off by a few minutes and whenever they tried to make it again, it was never good enough because it was hurried, lowering the quality of the food," Shinomiya said with a snort. "Of course they're all gone."

"It's kind of a pity, I guess," Alice said, cocking her head sideways. "They're not inherently bad chefs, they just can't perform in the restaurant."

"That's what this task tests for," Akira grumbled. "We can't just let them go because they couldn't complete what was required for them. That should be the last thing we consider."

"So mean, Akira-san," Alice pouted, ignoring his irate "Don't call me Akira!" in the process.

* * *

Two hours had passed. More students were fired, others awarded merits for their hard work. Sōma began to notice that Erina was lagging behind somewhat, though she didn't look tired or anything. Confused, he began to hang back with her, wondering what was wrong.

"Something up, Erina?" he asked.

"Such a flippant soul," she grumbled back, not meeting his eyes.

Sōma cocked his head sideways, confused by her musing. She waved him away with an errant hand.

"Why are you hanging back here, anyways?" Sōma asked after a while. Tsukasa, Kobayashi, and Nene were still walking in front of them, completely unaware of what they were doing.

"I..." Erina's voice trailed off. "I just needed to think."

"About what?"

She looked at his honestly confused eyes, the pair of golden orbs that had haunted her since the day of that damned transfer exam. "Things," she said vaguely.

Sōma clicked his tongue, smiling easily. "Come on, Erina, we're all friends here," he said, clasping his hands together behind his head. "Just tell me. Come ooooon."

Erina fixed her now more than a little annoyed gaze at him. "Excuse me for not wanting to tell you what's wrong with my life," she snapped at him, regretting her words a heartbeat later.

"Something's wrong with your life?" Sōma repeated, sounding more concerned than ever.

Erina flushed, completely mortified. "No! Nothing's wrong! Forget I said that!"

"So something _is_ wrong."

"Leave me alone, Sōma-kun!"

"Again with calling me Sōma. You should just get used to it, by this point."

Erina felt like screaming in frustration.

"What's wrong, though, seriously?" Sōma pestered.

Erina felt her last nerve being painfully pinched and suddenly a torrent of words flooded out of her mouth. She told him about her father and mother and their deranged family dynamic, how she had always been trained to be in the restaurant business and how she was actually failing for once, how she didn't have a single clue where to start, how she hadn't a single idea of where to end, how she didn't know what she was doing anymore, how her father was trying to extend his control over her once again, how her grandfather could do nothing to stop him. With each painful revelation, Erina felt herself grow more and more exhausted yet more and more liberated. When she finally stopped her cathartic rambling, she felt her knees buckle and fully expected to slam into the ground in a cold, painful jolt. Instead, she was soon surrounded by a protective warmth that enveloped her in a thick outline. Instinctively, to get even more comfort out of the warmth, she felt herself burrowing into it, her shoulders shaking. Dimly, she realized something was rubbing her back and then, as if hit by lightning, realized it was Sōma holding her. She tried to push him off of her with weakened arms but to no avail. After struggling, Erina just let her arms fall and let Sōma hug her until she felt her strength come back to her legs and she could stand on her own again.

She fully expected to see that hated sympathy in his gaze, but all she saw was an uncharacteristic serenity and understanding instead.

"Don't look at me like that," she grumbled. It was the principle of the thing, after all.

"I didn't think someone like you would have problems like me," Sōma said.

Erina blinked. She hadn't expected that at all.

Sōma rubbed the back of his head. "That damned old man expected something like this to happen, didn't he?" he muttered under his breath.

Erina heard his words. "Old man?" she asked out loud.

"It's not important," Sōma said, waving his hand around.

* * *

Kilometers away, a man with rusty brown hair sneezed violently in the middle of his room. Startled, he glanced about before shaking his head and going back to rearranging the boxes that covered the floor.

* * *

"You asked why Pops called you, right?" Sōma asked. Erina felt a silent thrill rush through her when she realized that Sōma was actually keeping the promise he made to tell her of what had happened. She nodded, not saying a word.

Sōma was quiet for a second, uncertain of where to start, before his eyes lit up and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Quickly glancing at the lock screen, his expression fell slightly and he bit his lower lip before steeling himself and turning the phone around so that Erina could see it.

"It went black," she said deadpan.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," Sōma said, hurriedly turning the phone back on.

Erina saw an image of three people: a man, a woman, and what looked like a nine-year-old child. The child was obviously Sōma, with his wide, innocent eyes and blazing scarlet hair. The impish expression reminded Erina of the student she had nearly denied entry into her school, and the wayward way his hair was styled was so far removed from Sōma's current purposefully spiky look that she felt herself chuckle slightly at the sight. The man was the chef of her dreams, the one that had introduced her to a world of light and joy within cooking. Saiba Jōichirō, the mysterious man that had cooked for her, Alice, and her grandfather once before vanishing from her life forever, the man that she aspired to become like, the one that had inspired her to open her restaurant in the first place.

But the woman? She was a mystery, a strawberry-blonde with kind green eyes and a beautiful smile, one that was welcoming even to the most unknown of strangers. Her relaxed pose, her warm expression all implied a gentle and embracing soul that accepted all of everyone's faults and strengths equally, one that would make anyone feel loved. She had her arms wrapped around Sōma's torso, the boy gazing lovingly at her, while Jōichirō stood behind them both and had a hand in Sōma's hair, ruffling it, and the other on the woman's shoulder while looking at her as well. She didn't acknowledge either, choosing to stare directly into the camera.

The screen went dark again, but Erina had seen enough. She finally realized that she had never seen Sōma's lock screen before. In fact, almost no one ever had.

Sōma pocketed his phone, hiding the face of the mysterious woman in his pocket.

"Who is she?" Erina asked simply.

"Yukihira Atsuko," Sōma said with a wistful smile, his pace slowing as he watched the other three alumni in front of them walk on. "Fitting name, I think."

"Yukihira..?"

"Yep, she's my mom."

Erina wasn't surprised that Sōma had a mom (what person didn't?) but she was thunderstruck when she realized that he had never mentioned her before.

Sōma seemed to build himself up for something, steeling his resolve to word his next few sentences. "That's the most recent picture I have of the three of us," he began.

The most recent picture. Sōma had been nine. It was taken almost fifteen years ago.

"About six months after that, Mom started... forgetting things. Tiny things. She forgot to water the flowers, or she watered them so often because she forgot that she already had. She started to forget people's names. She didn't remember the regulars of the restaurant she lived in since she was small. She didn't remember what people liked. She didn't remember what people looked like. She didn't remember who had kids and who was pregnant and whose parents had died. Pops took her to the doctor one day when she had apparently forgotten what her own mother's name was."

Erina felt Sōma stop next to her. She stopped too, needing the answers.

"She was in her late thirties when they diagnosed her with early Alzheimer's."

A pinprick of dread settled in Erina's stomach.

"I was just starting middle school at the time. I was a little confused when my dad told me that mom couldn't prepare lunch for me anymore, but it was okay because obviously my dad knows how to cook. He couldn't bring himself to tell me that she had forgotten that I was going to middle school and spent the rest of the day scrambling around the house, searching for the baby she thought she lost forever. I found out soon enough, though. It's hard to ignore when your mom runs up to you at the door and begs you to help her 'find my Sōma-kun'."

Erina felt the hairs on the back of her neck slowly begin to rise as she heard his haunting tale of a woman, once so maternal and loving, deteriorating into a shell of her former self. Sōma told the story in a monotone voice, a half-smile on his face as he thought of the woman his mother once was. Erina was struck by his overwhelming optimism. He refused to think of the woman in hospice, barely able to recognize her beloved husband. He thought instead of the smiling, warm person that had raised him, that had run the diner before his father had arrived, the one with ears open to anyone's troubles and sympathetic words for those who needed them. He thought of the good, not of the bad.

Sōma's eyes fell suddenly.

"You wanted to know what happened before, right?"

 _A broken cell phone and a scream of pain._

"Yes." Erina's throat was dry.

* * *

 _"Hey Pops. What's up?"_

 _"Sōma."_

 _"Eh? Did something happen?" Jōichirō felt his throat clog up as he heard his son mull over the possibilities. "Did those stupid realtors come back? They try every year, even if I think it's just to eat for free from the restaurant."_

 _The older chef couldn't help but chuckle darkly at that. "Sōma, they come to eat. It's not that."_

 _"Pops, spit it out."_

 _Jōichirō was silent. "Atsuko's not doing well."_

 _The background sound of Sōma's footsteps stopped completely._

 _"P-Pops, don't freak me out like that. What are you talking about?" A tiny, manic laugh punctuated the end of his sentence, as well as puncturing Jōichirō's heart. Of all of the things he wanted to call his son about, this was the last thing on his mind._

 _Jōichirō took a deep breath, steeling himself. "She has three months left, Sōma."_

 _Sōma was silent, stopped in the hallway, his eyes wide and tears brimming at his eyelids. His mother, who was supposed to get better and come back to eat at his restaurant, the one named for her family, would be dead in only a few months? Not even a hundred days? That was all they gave her? Sōma felt a bubble of laughter, horrified, insane laughter, well up inside of him and rip out of his throat. The tears finally fell from his eyelids, streaming down his face, and now his laughs were accompanied by a series of hiccupping sobs that Sōma couldn't control. He tried to quiet them by putting his hand over his mouth, though it didn't really help, and he started to laugh at himself, even louder than ever. He managed to control himself, the laughter leaving him in a second as the words finally registered._

 _Jōichirō had been silent the entire time._

 _"You aren't serious? Come on, y-your jokes are better than this. You can't just..." Sōma's voice trailed away, not letting him form the words he thought. "Father. Please." His voice was no more than a whisper now._

 _It had been the first time in Sōma's entire life that Jōichirō became 'father.'_

 _Jōichirō's silence was more than enough for Sōma to understand._

 _The phone slipped from between Sōma's fingers and fell to the ground, landing in a muffled thump on the carpet. Sōma stared at the black rectangle, his hand still poised by his ear from where he had been holding the phone. The lock screen flashed for a quick second, taunting Sōma with the picture of his perfect family, of their happiness, of his mother connecting father and son._

 _"Sōma?" Jōichirō's voice cut through Sōma's petrified state._

 _As if clicking a switch, all of Sōma's rage overwhelmed him at once. He wouldn't ever see his mother cook again. She would never see him successful in the world and be able to say to the stranger next to her, "That's my son," with any semblance of pride. She would never see him married or play with her grandchildren. She would never again be able to be proud of him. She would never smile, or laugh, or play cards, or light candles and pray, or anything. She wouldn't hear the birds chirp in the morning and watch the flowers grow. She would never live again._

 _Sōma let out an enraged, animalistic scream, one that pained him to make but at the same time felt like exactly like the right thing to do, and without thinking, he swung his leg back and kicked the phone, channeling all of his anger into the motion and sending the piece of plastic and glass flying towards the far wall, which it hit with a loud CRACK! and thumped to the ground._

 _Sōma stared at the phone, still heaving from his anger, but he had managed to control his rage after a while. Now, he felt numb to everything._

 _"Yukihira-kun, what is the meaning of all of this noise?"_

 _A blonde head poked out from a doorway, violet eyes flashing, a scowl overtaking all of her face._

* * *

Erina was silent. How does one who didn't love her parents comfort one who lost the one most dear to him?

"You know, Erina, it's funny. Pops said that he had only one piece of advice to become a great chef."

Erina perked up. "What would that be?" She wondered at the non sequitur.

"He said that the secret was to find someone you wanted to cook for, someone you wanted to please beyond all other things," Sōma said.

Erina blinked. "Someone you want to cook for?" she repeated.

Sōma nodded. "Someone you wanted to try your best for, someone whose approval you wanted, someone who you strove to please. They all mean the same thing, right?"

Erina was surprised with how mature and articulate Sōma sounded.

"Have you ever had a person?"

Erina thought of Jōichirō, his promise to try her food. "I guess so, yes."

"I always thought I did, as well," Sōma said, musing. "But now that she's on a time limit, maybe I'll stagnate. That's always a terrifying idea."

Erina felt herself become extremely angry. "You can't just say that! You're the one who always has someone with him, always _groveling_ to him."

"Groveling?"

"What do you think Tadokoro-san did all of Tōtsuki?"

"Megumi? Grovel? Maybe in first year, but never in third."

Erina just _hmph_ -ed at that statement.

"Well, you have to have someone," she said imperiously. "How do you think you got so good, anyhow?"

"I'm not that great a chef," Sōma objected.

"What are you saying? You've bypassed your father, right? You're a perfectly fine chef."

"And yet, I still can't make you admit you like my food."

Erina was thrown for a second. "Well, er―"

Sōma held his hand up, stopping her from speaking. "I don't want your excuses. I will make it one day."

Erina felt her exasperation overwhelm her as the cocky grin sprang back onto Sōma's face. "Aiiiishe," she hissed quietly.

"Teru."

Erina froze, her head snapping up in time to see Sōma hurrying away from her to catch up with Tsukasa, Kobayashi, and Nene.

"...aishiteru?"

* * *

 **...**

 **;)**

 **(p.s. Sōma says that 'Atsuko' is a fitting name because it means 'warm' in Japanese)**

 **-Shriayle**


	16. DAY 4: TSUKASA'S TASK

**I should really get more time to write sometime. It's the only thing preventing me from pulling my hair out after three-hour long labs.**

 **Anyways, I've started writing a new Shokugeki story as well, one that is _very_ different from this one. It is a complete AU, with some characters differently aged and personalities that are quite different. It will not be a Sōma/Erina, but a Sōma/Megumi, though Erina's possible SO is still in the air for me. Once you read the first chapter, you'll understand why it's not Sōma/Erina, haha. That will be posted tomorrow.**

 **So yeah. I'm going back to responding to all reviews here as I have no idea who I've responded to or not at this point. If you have a private question/concern, I'm very open to your PMs. That is all.**

 **Finally, thanks for getting the story to 200+ favorites :'D I'm beyond thankful for all of your support~**

 **GUEST REPLIES:**

 **Guest (1):** YES THAT WAS INTENDED RESPONSE GOOD | **Ken18:** They will now proceed to get slightly less intense. | **Guest (2):** Thank you! I tried to make them mature and then also added my OTPs because that's how you fanfic, right?

* * *

It had been a long-fought battle to get to the solo tasks of the fourth day. Where there were once around twelve-hundred students, only six-hundred had survived the first half of the week, courtesy of the younger alumni's stricter standards and willingness to cut any superfluous fat from the proverbial slab of meat. Rumor was that there were even harder challenges ahead, as no one had taken a class yet from the so-called "Maestro of Meats", Mito Ikumi, or the God's Tongue herself, Nakiri Erina, both women from the high-achieving Jewels Generation and, by extension, both with just as high standards, if not higher, than the alumni who had tested the students before.

Therefore, when the door swung open to reveal the next alumnus, the students were more than a little wound-up.

And when Tsukasa hurried in, mumbling to himself about the temperature of the room and the possible lack of ingredients in the kitchen (there was no lack whatsoever), the students were once again thrown by the wide variety of personality types among the world-renowned chefs known as the Tōtsuki alumni.

"Is everything set? Are all of the knives sharpened? Has everything been laid out?" Tsukasa thought aloud, worrying over the minute details of cooking as he usually did. He ran up to one station, almost shoving the student aside, in order to count the number of plates laid out. "Eight, nine..." he murmured under his breath.

"...um, Chef Tsukasa?" one student eventually called out.

Tsukasa jumped somewhat violently before looking up and staring directly at the student who had spoken, unnerving him even more. "Yes?"

"W-We'd like to know what our task is, sir," the student said, quivering.

"Your task?" Tsukasa's eyes fogged over slightly as he thought. "Oh. Right. Your task." He cleared his throat, his eyes sharpening and growing much more serious as he put away his worrying self and put on his stoic self. Tsukasa put down the plate he had been examining in the light and began to walk over to his designated table. "You may be surprised to learn that over the course of the week, we've been observing you very closely. Some of my colleagues are even looking at a few of you with hopes to recruit you after this week ends, provided that you survive the next few days."

A low, excited murmuring spread throughout the students, who began to feel the awe of being recognized by their heroes. Never mind that it was probably only the top few, the ones who were probably going to be Elite Tens themselves next year; the idea of possibly having been noticed was enough to energize them.

"I am not one of those alumni."

The tone of the room shifted yet again, this time to a more uncertain, halting one.

"To be frank, no one has really stood out to me that much," Tsukasa said, leveling a blunt gaze on the students. "Your food is excellent, of course. Your preparation should by this point be practically flawless. That doesn't mean that I know who you are as a chef or as a person yet. I have no idea who you are on the inside, away from the kitchen and from yourself on the physical plane. So here is my challenge for you: showcase yourself. Show me who you are in your food, and by extension, show me how you plan to shake the culinary world. You have two hours."

As usual, the final word that left Tsukasa's mouth marked the start of a mad dash towards the pantry.

"And if your knives aren't sharp enough or if the dishes aren't clean, let me know! I don't think they're anywhere near good enough, and it really bothers me, but if you're okay with it, that's okay too!" Tsukasa said hurriedly, the worried glint reappearing in his gaze. Many of the students felt large sweat drops roll down their necks at that.

The students decided that the inevitable whiplash from dealing with his shifting moods wasn't worth the hassle of analyzing, so they just responded with a dutiful "Yes, Chef!" before returning their focus onto their cooking.

Tsukasa watched them, the worried glint fading from his eye until it had vanished completely and all that remained was a sly stare and a slight smirk.

He hid behind the nervous and flighty mask he put up as a student. He knew that people underestimated it, though he didn't really know when he first started acting so flustered. That had just been his front, the thing he did to not-so-convincingly hide behind a facade before blowing his competitors out of the water. Of course, it hadn't helped that he was appointed Sixth Seat in his second year, first in his Generation, and then First Seat in the following year, but he didn't mind. Most people were still uncertain of who he was.

That is, until the first taste of his food touched their tongue and his precision bordering on obsession with those few ingredients he deemed worthy of being in his dishes shone out and burst through the palate with a ray of flavor, overwhelming the senses until patrons were consumed themselves with the brilliance of their natural overtones. Tsukasa laid himself out flat in front of the patrons, not hidden by the masking spices that Terunori preferred or the inventive artworks that Sōma created.

The first student walked up, her hands trembling as she held the plate of food in her hands. Tsukasa's eyes had grown hooded, making him look somehow sinister. The time for judging had begun.

But first...

"Did you find everything okay?" The hooded expression vanished in a second, replaced by his somewhat genuine worry. "Everything was in the right place? All of the ingredients were fresh enough for you? The kitchen wasn't too cold? Do you have any back problems? Should I have known about that before?"

* * *

Erina was trying very hard not to spontaneously combust every time Sōma entered the room. Whenever she saw him, she had to leave the room immediately or just look away and refuse to even give him a glance. She could imagine his confused expression every time she left, bewilderment and denseness competing on his face. She growled slightly in anger, her cheeks flaring red.

That stupid idiot had decided to go ahead and make both of their lives as miserably awkward as possible with his last remark. Aishiteru? Really? And then, when she had confronted him about it, he had the sheer audacity to look confused and say that he was talking about how he knew she liked his food? It was one of the worst excuses he could have come up with, and Sōma seemed to know it, judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes and the slight smirk playing on his lips. Erina wasn't sure if she wanted to slap it off of his face or maybe ki―

Erina stopped her train of thought right there. At no point in time, in no other _universe_ would she, Nakiri Erina, allow herself to stoop so low as to consider an oaf like _Yukihira Sōma_ as a possible romantic partner. Right? The blonde growled under her breath again, cursing her wavering self-control.

"Erina? What's with the growling?" that accursed voice asked from behind her, making the hairs on the back of Erina's neck rise. The voice continued, tinged in amusement. "Are you that happy to see me? Is the great Nakiri Erina _purring_ at the idea of being around little old me?"

"Yukihira Sōma," Erina snarled. "The day that I'm happy to see you is the day that my dignity dies a long and painful death."

Sōma walked around in front of her, shrugging. "Pity," he quipped.

It was these kinds of comments that made Erina want to pull her hair out and scream as loudly as possible.

"J-just leave me alone," Erina muttered, cursing the way her voice was cracking and stuttering. Nakiri Erina did _not stutter_ , darn it.

"And why should I do that?" Sōma asked, a crooked grin carving its way across his face. "I've got a new dish I want you to try."

"Leave me alone," Erina tried again. She tried to impart her firm dislike of him, how she hated the way he made her feel uncertain, of how he was the one wild card in her life and how that excited her in ways she wasn't willing to admit.

"No," Sōma said cheerfully before grabbing Erina's wrist and pulling her into his arms amid protests and halfhearted attempts to free herself. Erina wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings, as she was much more concerned with making the red-haired chef let her go, but she soon regretted her single-minded focus when she looked up and realized that she had been dragged into Sōma's room. He let her go after setting her on the bed surprisingly gently. Erina gave him a glare promising of murder and torture, but Sōma just blissfully ignored it, whistling lightly as he walked back over to his table.

Erina glanced around the room. It didn't look lived in at all; his comforter was still tucked into the bed frame, all of his clothes were thrown haphazardly back into his suitcase, and his loyal oven was packed away into a cardboard box. It must have been a new addition to the box as Sōma picked up a still-steaming bowl of something and offered it to Erina without another word. She glanced in.

Glistening golden oil blanketing a carpet of white rice, fluffy little eggs nestled in like eggs in a nest.

Erina glanced back up at him. "Transforming Furikake?" she asked, trying her hardest not to sound amused by his choice. " _This_ is your new dish?"

"Oh, so you remember it?" Sōma asked, a cocky grin on his face.

"Don't sound so happy," Erina snapped. "I remember most of the dishes that I've tasted, and this one is barely adequate in comparison to the masterpieces I've had the privilege of trying."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Sōma said, lightly tapping Erina's forehead with a spoon that he seemed to have pulled out of midair. Flushing furiously, Erina snatched the spoon out of his hand and fixed Sōma with an intense glare. She carefully spooned up some of the rice, blowing the fragrant steam off with a puff of breath before gingerly placing the still-hot rice into her mouth.

It wasn't what she expected. The flavor had matured since she last had the dish. Before, it had reminded her of a boy's simple wish to outspeed everyone around him, to outperform, out-everything. It was overwhelming, shorting out her senses and reducing her to a wriggling pile of weakened flesh.

Now, it was the flavor of someone who had matured, someone who had learned from mistakes and became stronger for it. Erina wasn't torn down from her place as viciously as the first furikake had been, but she felt almost empowered by this new dish. There was a distinct nostalgic feeling to eating such a different dish, and Erina almost missed the innocent wildness of the old furikake.

"Do you like it?" Sōma asked, having watched Erina's face flush and her eyes close as she tried to control her physical reaction to the food.

Erina struggled to regain her senses, shaking off the last vestiges of power that the food held over her body. "It's good, but..." Erina's voice trailed off. She glanced over at Sōma. He was staring at her with expectant eyes, and she felt herself getting lost in their golden depths. That was a frightening thought. Erina forced herself to finish her statement. "I think I preferred the one before first year."

Sōma seemed dumbfounded. "So, you liked that other one?" he asked disbelievingly. "I thought you hated it!"

Erina blinked. "Was it not obvious to you?" she snapped back.

"Well, you said it was disgusting, so..." Sōma's voice trailed off.

Erina snorted. "Sōma-san, you were once so gullible that _that_ worked on you," she said in a snarky tone.

"Well, that Sōma is no more," Sōma said firmly, crossing his arms. "I've turned into the Sōma I am now. And good riddance to the past."

 _Good riddance to the past_. If only it was that easy. If only her past was just as easily forgettable. The burning cold eyes of her father were still tearing holes into her back, and just thinking about it sent shivers up her spine and made her want to keep looking over her shoulder in case he was there.

Erina put the spoon down, appetite completely gone even though the heavenly smell of egg and rice still floated past her nostrils. She wondered how simple it was for Sōma to let go of his past and focus solely on the future.

"It was rather difficult, actually."

Erina's eyes widened as she realized that she let slip what she had been thinking. Her hand slowly drifted toward her traitorous mouth.

Sōma caught the hand and put it down. He was staring directly at her now, her hand still trapped in his, her amethyst eyes gazing into his golden ones. Erina numbly mused that his eyes seemed to glow like a cat's, or maybe a snake's. They hypnotized her with their luminous gleam.

"I had to put my mind to it," Sōma continued on, his voice hushed now. He stepped closer to her, refusing to let go of Erina's hand as he did so. "I had to think to myself that the past might have made me who I am, but I will make my future. I had to tell myself that it was worth it, in the end."

"How cheesy," Erina snorted, though her she felt her heart race even faster when Sōma leaned closer, yet another smirk spreading on his face.

"I know," he said cheekily, his smirk splitting open to reveal two rows of whitened teeth.

They stood there, their faces so close that Erina could feel Sōma's breath flutter on her nose. It smelled of soy sauce and egg, which she expected as he had probably tasted the food he served prior to giving her some, but also a sharp hint of what seemed to be ginger.

"Since when did you eat ginger?" Erina asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Oh, you can smell that?" Sōma asked nonchalantly. "I started a couple of years ago. It tastes good and makes your breath smell good. I think."

"It just smells like more ginger," Erina said snidely. She felt her attempts to escape from Sōma's clutches grow weaker and weaker until she stopped struggling all together.

"Did you want some?" Sōma asked.

"If you're offering," Erina said reluctantly. Maybe the sharp flavor could help her regain her senses, and maybe then Sōma would finally back off and she could think straight.

Sōma's expression turned from earnest to devious. "Are you really sure?" he asked, leaning slightly closer to her. Their noses were practically touching now, and Erina felt her face flare a brilliant bright red at the proximity.

 _No!_ she wanted to scream now. _Get off of me!_ She was going to say it, she wouldn't let this _foolish man_ win, she wouldn't―

"Y-yes," Erina heard herself say.

"Well, isn't that unfortunate," Sōma practically purred. "I just ate the last bit before asking you to come in here."

The funny thing was that, in the future, Erina didn't regret her next decision, no matter when it was she looked back on it. At the time, she had been mortified, but afterwards? Never.

Erina threw her caution to the wind and decided to embrace the situation for what it was. She let her control over her expression slip slightly, narrowing her eyes and almost smiling at Sōma. "Well, looks like I can't get any, then."

"I can think of a way that you can have some," Sōma shot back, though he was visibly surprised by her sudden shift in character.

"And what would that be?" Erina asked, taunting him. She hoped to god that it wasn't what she imagined it was.

And then she felt a pressure on her lips and felt her body melt, just in the same manner as it had all of those years ago. As if encouraged by her body's reaction, Sōma deepened the kiss with a single move, claiming even more of Erina as his own. It had been this reckless passion that she had missed in his cooking, an explosion of colors so vibrant that they earned him the nickname of "The Artist" while they were still just rivals in school. They had been so young when they had met, but now they had matured, and there still existed that passion. Erina was fully aware that they were in a hotel room, specifically Sōma's hotel room, that the door was closed, that the situation could easily escalate far past her control.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Years later, Alice would tease Erina that her first kiss followed a conversation about ginger, of all things.

* * *

Tsukasa had speared some of the chicken in front of him on a fork and was examining it, trying to decipher what the student had done, before carefully putting it in his mouth and chewing. He savored the earthy flavor and tender texture, swallowing slowly. It was good, and if it were to be served to a patron, it would warrant a second bite, and even a third.

"You've failed." The student visibly wilted.

"C-could I ask how it failed, Chef?" she asked, wringing her hands together.

"I have no idea of who you are as a chef from this," Tsukasa said, poking the remnants of the food. "It's good. I can taste each individual sprig of rosemary that you chose to flavor the chicken with, and there wasn't too much to overwhelm the flavor nor was there so little that the flavor was too much for the chicken. At the same time, it is a common technique to flavor meat with such herbs, and while there are those who can easily elevate that and claim it as their own, you are not on that level yet. Try to make the dish yours."

The student saw his eyes flash quickly before he looked up at her suddenly, looking more worried than ever. "And if you're missing anything, let me know! I'll get it for you! Anything you need at all! Anything that's preventing you from enjoying!"

The student just nodded, eyes wide with confusion and slight fear as she backed away towards her station. Tsukasa let the worried glint slip from his gaze the second she started cooking again.

He was worried about the students, alright. Almost none of them had captured what it was they wanted to showcase in themselves, even only a tiny bit. Some knew the path they wanted to take― somewhat. They knew the path they were willing to take for their food, though they didn't quite know how to get there, and Tsukasa understood that and let them pass, but others? They had no focus, no vision.

Then again, that was what Tōtsuki was supposed to nourish, he supposed.

* * *

 **Short chapter, I guess, but 'ey, there's another one I've posted that you can read, and it's quite a bit longer as well.**

 **This story is slowly but surely wrapping up, surprisingly. I haven't written this quickly in quite some time.**

 **Until next time~**

 **-Shriayle**


	17. DAY 4: IKUMI'S TASK

**SHRI'S BACK. Not much to say, except finals are in a few weeks and I need to study so I might disappear again. Also I might freeze to death it is very chilly here yep.**

 **Replies (omg so many reviews ily all):**

 **Demon Damian:** You seem to have vanished, hm. Anyhow, I needed _some_ reason for all you dirty-minded people to come back to this story, right? | **NefCanuck:** Lel that cereal comment is probably more than accurate xD And yep, what you all have been asking for. | **Ken18 (Guest):** They did indeed. | **badagangGirL:** ALL THE GINGER MUAHAHA. I like the implication that Soma is a ginger as well :P | **BleachCadelina:** Tsukasa is adorable heheheeee i'm looking forward to writing him in other stories as well | **dotJKLO:** Not much happens, unfortunately. I don't write NSFW stuff at all. | **VitaSen:** Took me long enough to get here. And thanks! | **Neroj:** My idea was that all of these guys drifted apart as they focused on their cooking careers, so this should be fine.(?) | **2black2butterfly:** THEY DID. Tsukasa is wonderful haha. | **Laury Rose:** I love writing Tsukasa so much :) Too bad he's not a huge part in this story... I hope this chapter was worth the wait too. | **Guest (1):** Nothing too steamy, sorry. | **Wacko12:** Here ya go, then! | **a.k.a. Kusabi:** Grammar Nazi away! I have stated before that I won't be editing this until I finish it, so there are more than just those errors in the story, believe me. And I'm not even an adult what I didn't write SnS xD I just watched too much Food Network/look up all of the recipes and try to imagine eating them. Not sure if you like the OCs here because they're really place-holders, but eh. Whatever. And NO MEGUMI IS NOT ENGAGED IN CANON. NOPE. NOT YET. And I stopped keeping up with the Shokugeki anime, since I'm more of a manga person anyhow, but yeah, I'd like to hear what Subaru's voice would have been... | **HoshinaYuki:** YEP. I chose ginger for a reason and you have found it xD | **AceStarKnight:** I am planning to write a Shokugeki story for every pairing, so there will be a Sōma/Ikumi story in my future. Don't worry 'bout that. There are Sōma/Ikumi implications in this chapter, sort of. | **ClippedNinja:** I tried :P I hope it happens similarly~ That means that I got the characterization down-pat. | **FoulIceQueen:** ahahaha it took me long enough to update oops. | **Hinate:** I guess? Sōma could pair with anyone and it could work, really. Also, what's up with your H's? | **l Hypocrisy l:** There's still more tension, heehee | **Harumaki03:** ahhh go to sleeepppp well that would be me-pot calling the kettle black. And Megumi's fiancé reveal is in this chapter, but it isn't Shinomiya, sorry. That would be an interesting path to follow... hmm... And Shen is a little gem of a character I'm so happy I came up with him. I'm glad you like the story! | **Guest (2):** Here it be! Thanks for your support! | **Intangibly Yours:** I didn't want people to come to this story just because it was Sōma/Erina so haha oops. Aaand nope, _Welcome to Hell: Devils' Edition_ will be the only Sōma/Erina I write for now. Sorry, but I don't think I can re-do these romantic reveals well enough to write more than one Sorina n_n | **GalanthaDreams:** Thanks for your feedback! | **eri (Guest):** I tried. | **voldynose (Guest):** See previous response.

* * *

There was much interspersed yawning as a tired rabble of students piled into the now very familiar kitchen-classroom they had become accustomed to. The stainless steel and ceramic appliances no longer interested them; now, they were tools of destruction, destruction of their sanities.

Maybe that was just because the woman in the front of the room was casually flipping a knife around, occasionally catching it on the blade but never getting cut.

When the final student walked in, the woman glanced up through blonde strands of hair before snorting derisively and neatly storing her blade in what appeared to be a scabbard tied onto her leg. Of course, that action only drew more attention towards her legs, and the observation of multiple scabbards all over her body filled with knives of different sizes only made the students more nervous. The woman ignored their uneasiness, choosing instead to walk as deliberately as possible to the front of the room. Once she got there, she turned her piercing gaze upon them, making each student feel as though they had been speared through the core and were forced to stand in anticipation.

"Hello, everyone," the woman practically purred, running the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. She stood up straighter, which only drew some unwanted attention to her cleavage, though her next few words reclaimed their space in the spotlight. "Mito Ikumi, known by some fools as the Maestro of Meat. Frankly, chefs' nicknames always amused us, but we have to let the people do as they please, right?" She didn't seem to expect the students to respond, so when they didn't, she just chuckled to herself and smirked. She noticed that she was losing some interest, judging by the amount of eye-rubbing and yawning throughout the room. That wouldn't do.

Ikumi unsheathed a butcher knife swiftly before slamming it into the cutting board in front of her.

"PAY ATTENTION!" she snapped, successfully recapturing all of the students' attention. "In a kitchen, you can't just nod off because you're tired. The patrons out there, they don't give a damn! All they want is to be pleased, and sucks for you if you don't think you can perform to the best of your abilities, because you _will_ , or you don't deserve the title of 'Tōtsuki student', much less 'Tōtsuki alumnus!' "

Ikumi lifted her chin up slightly, observing the students the same way an entomologist might examine a fragile nest of ants. "Anyhow, you're almost there. There are only three more tasks you must go through before we give you back to the Academy to tear you apart some more." The dismissive way she said it, as though it were to be expected, ran a freezing cold fingernail down the students' backs. "So here's the task I've set out for you. As you might expect, it has to do with my specialty."

She took the time to walk in front of the table, her sparkling green eyes training on each student for a couple of seconds. "Meat is a staple in cooking. How to cut it, how to marinate, how to make it sing is one of the skills that you're going to need to learn. It came from a living source, and the only way to serve it is to make it come to life again. Most people imagine this with a juicy steak, or a succulent cut of lamb for example." Ikumi leaned back, closing her eyes. Her tongue darted out from between her lips again, this time more subconsciously as she imagined the vigor of a perfectly cooked piece of meat. "Today, you're going to explore this life in a different manner. Meat isn't always the centerpiece of a meal, after all. Your task is to transform any cut of meat you wish into a dainty dessert. It cannot be savory, and it cannot be heavy. Think of something you would want to eat after a meal."

Ikumi smirked when she caught the overwhelmed looks of the students. "Get working. You have until dinnertime to come up with something and give it to me. Exactly at 18:00, I'm going to leave, and you'll have lost all of your chances."

The students frantically looked at the clock: 16:20. They had little less than two hours to serve a dish this complex, one that would require such a high level of finesse? Immediately, shouting and frantic jostling by the spices and meats started up.

Ikumi chuckled to herself. _'Show me your interpretation of the joys and delights of meat,'_ she purred in her mind, licking her lips once more as she walked behind her table and settled into her chair, reclaiming her knife as she did so. The blade glinted in the light as she carefully stowed it away before lounging on the chair, her other knives clinking gently as she moved.

=1=

"What are we?"

"Hmm?"

Erina resisted the urge to roll her eyes for a solid five seconds before succumbing. " _Yukihira-san_. We just… just…"

"Kissed?" he completed the sentence for her with a drawl, eyebrow raised, a barely visible smirk already dancing at the corner of his mouth.

" _Yukihira-san!_ " Erina felt more than a little outraged and more than a little mortified at his candidness. "You can't just _say_ something so flagrant as that! I've been ruined for marriage!"

Sōma blinked. "I know that Megumi said that a lot, but I never expected to hear those words come out of your mouth," he said casually.

Erina flushed bright red.

"Even then, Megumi's getting married now, too," Sōma mused, blissfully unaware of Erina's crimson visage. "So I guess she wasn't _ruined_ , right? That would mean that she wouldn't be getting married at all. And that's not true whatsoever."

"What? Did you ruin Tadokoro-san's purity as well?" Erina asked with a huff, trying to regain some semblance of control over the conversation. "What did you do to her?"

"Walked in on her in the bath once," Sōma said, marking it off on a finger. "Hugged her too tightly, from what I remember. Kissed her on the cheek once in second year." Sōma thought for a second, staring at the three fingers he had raised with eyes narrowed in concentration.

Erina's face contorted into some mixture of amusement and displeasure. "Forget that I asked."

Sōma finally noticed her discomfort. "Oh? Are you jealous, Erina?" he teased.

"J-jealous? Jealous of whom? Tadokoro-san?" Erina asked with a distinct harrumph. "Please. She has nothing that I don't have."

"I guess that's true," Sōma said mildly, missing Erina's startled glance towards him.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, bitterness welling up inside of her but curiosity forcing the words out.

"Well, she's got someone utterly devoted to her, willing to do anything, wait for such a long time for her to finish her apprenticeship. She was proposed to three weeks after we graduated, remember?"

"That was the first proposal he tried," Erina snapped, blushing slightly in second-hand mortification at the memory. "She denied it since she knew she would be miles away from him."

"And then, once she had her routine established, he tried again," Sōma pointed out. "He might have served another lady for years before noticing her, but Ryō's a good guy. He makes her happy. And now that she finally accepted that, they're happily engaged. Isn't it funny how that kind of thing works out?"

"You're on such familiar terms with the Mad Dog now, too?" Erina asked, flicking a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. "I feel like I've been marginalized."

"Do you?" Sōma's eyes danced with a merry light. "Shall I paint for you a picture of just how exquisite the pleasure of being in your presence is, oh great and mighty Erina-hime-sama?" he cooed, bringing up Terunori's teasing nickname for Erina.

The blonde flushed bright crimson again, wondering just why she put up with Sōma's purposeful stupidity. "Paint if you'd like," she snapped, looking away with a furious glance.

"But of course!" Sōma smirked as he moved towards his table, where his stove sat. "Give me a few minutes, hime-sama."

"And don't call me that!"

* * *

The sound of sizzling fat and the smells of spices began to fill the air in an aromatic fog. Ikumi closed her eyes in appreciation for the thick, heady scent, humming to herself as she immersed herself in the cooking. She felt the sensuous odors wrap themselves around her, embracing her in a thick hug that comforted the body and soothed the soul. Ikumi leaned back as she sighed, eyes half-open in anticipation.

It took quite some time for the first students to be done with their dishes. Perhaps it was their lack of knowledge on what Ikumi affectionately called the 'rich wonder' that was a slab of meat, perhaps it was their excessive perfection. In any case, when a quietly confident tan girl with bright blue hair (honestly, what kinds of genes did parents these days pass on?!) walked up to Ikumi and bowed slightly to her while holding up what appeared to be a dainty porridge of some kind, Ikumi's appetite had been fully whipped up and she looked forward to eating the desserts that the students came up with.

A single bite and an explosion of flavor filled Ikumi's mouth. The tenderness of the lamb that the girl had roasted flooded her senses, tantalizing her with traces of cinnamon, ginger, and other herbs, but most of all slamming her with the hearty flavor that lamb was famous for having. The meat had been hidden in the porridge, but its flavor, enhanced with what seemed to be edible flowers complete with candied petals, had been forcefully steered towards the dessert track, as if the girl made the meat work for her.

Ikumi wasn't sure she agreed with that philosophy, but she nodded at the girl and told her that she had passed. The girl gave another satisfied smirk before flouncing out of the room.

 _You think yourself so good, don't you?_ Ikumi thought, an amused smile curling her lips. The girl reminded her of herself as a first-year: brash, arrogant, and full of herself, at least, until Sōma had forced his way into her life and scrambled her careful plans into shambles, stealing her heart along with it. He had long since given it back; Ikumi was glad that she wasn't his lover now. Her business was booming, with her at the head of the market. Were she to have pursued Sōma, where would she be?

Her musing was interrupted by the arrival of another girl. This one was quietly powerful, it seemed; her eyes were almost dull in their concentration, as though she had withdrawn into herself as she created her dish. Ikumi blinked in recognition; the expression was more than familiar to her. It reminded her of a certain red-haired chef, especially in his countless Shokugeki their third year. Shaking her mind of old memories, Ikumi glanced down at the dish that the girl presented to her.

Ikumi blinked again, this time in shock. Her bright green eyes darted between the dish and the girl, whose face was showing a slowly growing smile and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

How the hell did this girl incorporate meat into a shaved ice of all things?

Ikumi placed her perplexity to the side to take the proffered dish and spoon. She examined the toppings: a finely ground brown powder, slices of what appeared to be a dark brown garnish not unlike almonds, and large pieces of rice cake. A white liquid had been poured over the whole thing. Ikumi carefully spooned a bit up, making sure to include all of the toppings in her spoonful, before placing the spoonful into her mouth.

Her eyes flew open. A scene laid itself out in front of her: she was sitting at a piano, one that was playing itself in melodies faster and faster than she could calculate or control, but its melodies were accompanied with flavors that were blending in a strangely harmonious way. Smoked flavors, succulent flavors, and warm embraces of flavors seemed to bathe her tongue in ecstasy until Ikumi finally relented and let the dish send her on its own journey rather than trying to control it partially herself. Meat did not like to be put down by the chef or the taster, after all; that was why she loved it so much. She did not notice how much she didn't let it sing by itself until now. The crunch of ice between her teeth reminded her of the crunch of bone and gristle that sometimes associated itself with meat, and every bite of the springy rice cake released even more beef flavors into her mouth. And yet, the condensed milk, for that was what had been poured over the entire shaved ice, gently shushed the beef flavors after a second, mellowing them into a sweet collapse that overtook Ikumi's taste buds.

It was a concert of flavors, one that Ikumi was allowed to enjoy without being the Maestro herself, for once.

"Beef?" It was the first thing that Ikumi could think of asking.

The girl nodded. "There are three different meat components in this dessert," she revealed.

"Three? I only consciously found two."

"I cooked the condensed milk with a bit of sugar and the leftover fat, strained it, and then poured it over the shaved ice. The other things were the strips of smoked beef coated in a cinnamon sugar and the rice cake, which was cooked in the style of tteokbokki."

"Tteokbokki?" Ikumi repeated, wondering how the stir-fried Korean food related to the shaved ice in front of her.

"The style with which tteokbokki is cooked means that the rice cake is infused with the flavors of the other ingredients. In this case, the rice cake absorbed more meat flavors: bacon, steak, and sausage to be exact. I then fried it briefly in order to keep the flavor in before cutting it up and putting it on the dish," the girl explained simply, crossing her arms across her chest. She mindlessly swept a lock of her hair over her shoulder as she explained, the chopsticks holding her hair up clicking quietly as she gestured enthusiastically to deliver her point.

"And this brown powder?" Ikumi prompted, spooning up a little bit of the powder to illustrate her point.

"That's something I just came up with," the girl admitted. "Whenever we have extra dumpling skins at home, we make mandupi churros by rolling them up and frying them with cinnamon sugar. Here, I used that same idea but I sliced thin sheets of the rice cake and fried that instead. The consistency is a little bit different, but the overall idea is the same."

Ikumi nodded in satisfaction. "Well, you've passed with flying colors," she declared, gesturing at the door. "Feel free to see yourself out."

"Thank you, chef."

* * *

The aromatic steam that drifted up from the plate that Sōma offered Erina made her mouth water and her body twinge in expectations. It was all the blonde could do to daintily take the dish from the red-haired chef and place it as carefully onto her lap as she could.

Of course, that was where her problem began.

"Sōma-san?" she asked haltingly.

"Is there a problem?" Sōma asked, an impish grin starting to make its way across his face.

"How do you expect me to eat these with no utensils?" she asked, gesturing towards the three deviled eggs innocently sitting on the plate.

"Well, first of all," Sōma began before darting a hand out to steal one and stuff it into his mouth, "I wanted one too," he ended through a mouthful of egg. Erina wrinkled her nose at the sight of the half-chewed food in his mouth.

"Secondly," Sōma said, showing off his uncanny ability to scarf down food, no matter how spicy or boiling hot it was, "you eat them the way I just did, Erina."

Erina halted. She did not want to sully her hands with the food in front of her. She looked down; the yellow innards of the egg were slowly seeping out, apparently more liquid than usual deviled eggs. She felt her eye twitch at even the faintest notion of getting that yellow goo on her fingers. She looked back up, making Sōma chuckle at her disdained expression.

"Is there no other way?" she asked in the hopes that he would have mercy and give her another option, preferably a pair of chopsticks or even just a toothpick. When he shook his head gleefully, she sighed and gingerly picked up one of the white, wobbly food items. She eyed it with a grimace, licked her lips, and sniffed it daintily. The heavenly aroma of spices and egg floated through her nose, brushing against her eyes teasingly, making her moan lightly in anticipation. She lost her inhibitions almost immediately and stuffed maybe half of the egg in her mouth and took a large bite.

Sometimes, Erina's palate gave her the impression that flavor was like a bomb, exploding around her. Other times, it was an insidious thing, one that crept into her mind until it overwhelmed her so subtly that she barely noticed until it was too late.

This time, the flavor enveloped her in a warm embrace. She could actually feel the blanket of warmth sweep around her in a flurry of ginger, wasabi, vinegar, and scallions as if the egg's innards had turned into a maternal mass that hugged her and didn't let her go. Erina could feel her body's vocal reactions to the food ease out of her throat, but she couldn't hear them, so wrapped up in the food-induced fantasy as she was.

Erina shivered as her body finally settled down from the food, her mind still racing. She felt herself panting still.

She looked up at Sōma, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. When he finally looked over at her, she saw golden eyes that had darkened.

"That was intense," he commented, his voice strained as he tried to stay light-hearted.

Erina had no response. She was still out of breath. She noticed that she had set the half-eaten egg down, but she had apparently stuck her finger in the remaining goop somehow, coating her pointer finger. Mindlessly, she stuck the finger in her mouth and licked the food off, just as she had done so many times before.

A strange strangled noise pierced the air. Erina glanced up to see Sōma turning as red as his hair, a hand held over his mouth. He seemed to be… sweating? And leaning over, an elbow balanced on his knee. Of course, glancing down at his knee, she noticed something else that was, erm, _different_ in his lower half.

And there goes her blushing again. With the amount of blood rushing to her head in the past hour, Erina was surprised that she hadn't fainted yet.

An awkward silence stretched between the two. They both knew that it shouldn't be that awkward; they had just acknowledged that they were more likely than not going to be romantic partners of some kind. Erina bit her lip, uncertain of what to do next. Sōma still seemed mildly embarrassed (to say the least) so she didn't anticipate him doing anything to break the silence.

So she reached for the final egg.

"What should we do with this one?" she asked, holding it up. "There's only one left and two of us."

Sōma glanced at her for the first time since Erina had looked down. "I-I mean," Sōma stuttered, "I meant for you to get those two. I haven't got any plans for it or something." It was the first time that Erina had ever heard the red-haired man sound so nervous.

"Well, I have a plan for it," Erina said, letting a smile begin to stretch itself across her face.

Sōma blinked, silent in confusion.

Erina smashed the egg in his face.

* * *

Akira tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his colleague to show up, glancing into what looked like an empty cupboard as he swore quietly. "Damn it, I told him that we had to get everything set up by today," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Hayama-san?"

After four days of Satoshi's antics, Akira had long gotten used to his popping up everywhere. "Isshiki-senpai, we need to get all of the ingredients in place for tomorrow," he said exasperatedly, gesturing at the obviously empty pantry in front of him. The older man took a moment to look Akira over, to see his slightly out-of-place hair and his mildly wrinkled shirt, two details that wouldn't have been noticeable had it not been Satoshi observing and Akira being his subject.

"Seems as though Alice-san's arrival still has you shaken," Satoshi commented nonchalantly. Ignoring Akira's splutters, he leaned over to examine the pantry with a slight frown. "I could have sworn I told Dōjima-senpai what we needed and he promised to take care of it by now." Satoshi shrugged as he walked away. "It'll sort itself out."

"Hey!" Akira barked at his retreating form, regaining his voice. "This is something we need to remedy by tomorrow!"

"We've got time."

"Isshiki-senpai!"

* * *

Sōma was speechless again.

How could this girl, no this woman, this former princess whose footsteps were once worshiped like religious idols, have even thought to lower herself to not only eat and visibly enjoy his food, but also to _smash it in his face_?!

After a few moments of sitting shell-shocked, Sōma began to laugh. He began to laugh _a lot_.

"S-Sōma-san?" Erina asked, slightly perturbed at the length at which Sōma was laughing.

"O-oh my god!" he shrieked halfway through, holding his stomach. Egg dripped down his face. "How did I not see that coming?" He drew a finger across a cheek lightly and licked the egg off.

Erina snickered slightly. "I'm a woman of many surprises, Sōma-san," she responded.

"So I see."

* * *

 **It snowed here. Maybe that's why I wanted shaved ice, haha.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you have any questions, comments, or other things (not sure what), please leave a review~**

 **-Shriayle**


	18. DAY 5: ERINA'S TASK

**There are three more chapters after this one, and then this part of the story's complete. What comes next? Well... I'll drop the bomb at the end of this chapter. It'll be easier to explain in full once you've read this through :)**

 **REPLIES:**

 **NefCanuck:** I was trying to find something ridiculous for Ikumi to ask the students to do. I don't know, I just feel like she could be that ridiculous, haha. And the yolk's on him indeed. | **a. k. a. Kusabi:** I am not a grammar Nazi hater! I am a grammar Nazi myself, haha. Go ahead and do your thing :) I'm just letting you know that this story in particular is extremely rough. I haven't really proofread many of the chapters. I just write and post. Erina's just letting herself go, but you can imagine that they cleaned the egg up afterwards ;) | **Guestito (Guest):** It was fun to write, heehee | **Cat McHall:** Most likely. Those two seem like they would get along like a house on fire. | **Kaze no Owari:** "soon" oops | **Laury Rose:** Yeah, she's having fun coming up with things. And yep, I definitely ship Ry ō x Megumi :3 Those two were *supposed* to share but eh. Things wrote themselves, I guess. | **Neroj:** I don't like writing only Erina x Sōma if I promised a story about not-just-shipping. Ikumi was wearing a normal chef's uniform, but I feel like her cleavage would somehow be visible no matter what. She's wearing her typical one-knife-per-limb ensemble in my imagination, but think what you want, I guess. | **badagangGirl_:** oops no more food of a cute sense here. or romance. sorry. I'm not as informed as I look, haha. I've just read through too many recipes/watched too many cooking shows over the past four years. | **Eramis8:** ahhHHHH thank you! New readers are always nice :) Sorry for making you wait for this chapter though oops | **FoulIceQueen:** Ryō x Megumi is an underappreciated ship that I can appreciate :P Sōma loses his cool easily around Erina and vice versa heehee. I wanted something out of left field for Ikumi's challenge, so this happened. | **godfish:** Thank you! I'm trying to make it more subtle than I've already read to make it more of an adventure to read the story, and it's nice to know that it's working. | **Demon Damian:** _JESUS CHRIST THAT'S A LONG DIALOGUE._ You should write stories yourself haha. Nice imagination, mate. Though, Ikumi is making an appearance again, so you haven't quite gotten rid of her. Ryō x Megumi really isn't a surprise from me after Akira x Alice, I guess. Thanks for your input on the imagery! I kind of ramped it up this chapter after that comment. I think you're thinking OOC, but I was trying to show that Erina is much more relaxed now/around Sōma more than anything. IDK I'm having fun so. | **eri1551:** Hm, good question. Can't really answer that for you, though. | **flight of the ninjaflamingo:** HERE YA GO. | **kensie- kun:** I'm updating now :) | **Onigiri-Madoshi:** Here you go! Thanks for the support :D

* * *

The only thing running through their minds was _'Are you_ kidding _me right now?!'_

They had gone through days of virtual torture, suffering knife cuts and second-degree burns and scars on their psyches. Some had fallen under the pressure. Some had just quit, vanishing one night after begging to be expelled. Others had disappeared and been replaced by ruthless versions of themselves, desperate to survive. And yet, some had managed to shine, to sparkle above the others. They had thought _'One more challenge, one more day, I can do this_. _'_

Their resolve nearly crumbled upon seeing who it was standing behind the table this time.

Her blonde hair was pristine in its straightness, without a single hair out of place. Her bangs hid her eyes slightly, her admittedly odd hairstyle seeming almost plastic in the light. She was wearing a starched, pressed white chef's uniform, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Those infamous orchid eyes glittered with a cold, calculating light as they looked each and every student and speared each one with a detached yet curious look. As her eyes fell on them, the students felt their hearts begin to race and their palms begin to sweat. After a few minutes, the woman unfolded her arms and gripped the edges of the table in front of her, lowering her torso and looking like a predatory tiger stalking its prey.

"Hello, students," she said. Her voice echoed the cold gleam that shone off of her eyes.

"Hello, Chef Nakiri," the students chorused in response, their restlessness already tamed by her pose and expression alone.

A cruel smile curved across Erina's face as she straightened, leaning forward slightly still. "You're almost done, you know," she said, sounding almost conversational now. "You've got two more tasks to suffer through, and I'm here to deal you with the penultimate one." She chuckled inwardly as she remembered what the final task was. Her mild amusement showed on her face, which made the students both uneasy and slightly encouraged.

"I've heard from the others what you've had to deal with. On-site injuries. Horrible ingredients. A subversion of an entire section of cooking. Limited utensils. Restriction of key ingredients. Even soul-searching tasks for you to find yourself in two hours." She snorted at that last one. "Well, I guess we'll be going back to that, in a sense. You have three hours to make something that I would find adequate. No further restrictions. No chefs breathing down your necks, like Mizuhara-senpai or Shinomiya-senpai. All of the ingredients are provided and of the freshest quality. Show me what you know about cooking, now that you've seen just what we expect from you. You get as many attempts as you can pull off in those three hours."

As simple an order as it was, it was the tallest that the students had received yet. They had to make something that the God's Tongue would find at least adequate? Mistakes so tiny that they would slip past the students would seem like looming errors to this woman, and any discordant flavors would result in immediate rejection. This wasn't just trying to stay on the path now; this was akin to walking across a tightrope stretched out over a pool of lava and sharks. Or would it be lava or sharks?

Erina clapped her hands. "Begin."

A flurry of movement as the students forced their brains to shove past the steadily growing fog of their minds to dig up something, anything that could possibly please Nakiri Erina. Some were already despairing, feeling tears well up in their eyes as they struggled to find ingredients and work through their panic. Erina saw everything from determination to resignation that day.

She sneered at the latter. Those students would never excel at Tōtsuki, if even after five days of hard work they still didn't believe in themselves. She knew that some might turn out like Megumi did: unconfident at first, but then growing into her stride and becoming one of the powerhouses of the generation. Erina also knew that it was an unlikely feat, one that had amazed Megumi's peers and teachers when they observed her transformation. She had no doubt that none of the students in front of her would be able to make the transition.

They didn't burn with passion. They burned with a cold determination, a firm desire to do well, but none wanted to blaze in an inferno of glory, reshaping the world around themselves in order to get to what they wanted. None of them would willingly leave for their ambitions. Their only goal was to graduate, to excel from there. Erina remembered how Sōma was more than willing to continuously bet his expulsion for the pure reason that he wanted to push himself further than he admittedly should have. She remembered how Akira would constantly proclaim how he was going to claim the First Seat, even after the judges of their Shokugeki gave the win unanimously to Sōma. She remembered Ikumi throwing herself into her work, even recruiting the likes of Eizan Etsuya to help her with the business side of things and Takumi finally reclaiming his mezzaluna after months of challenges and losses. Erina knew with certainty that if any of the first years in front of her were confronted with what her fellow graduates were confronted with, they would have immediately crumbled, even those first years that they had scouted out.

That was why Erina didn't test them further. She trusted her colleagues' judgment. If any of these students didn't deserve to be at the Academy, she had no doubt that they relentlessly threw them out. She had seen the numbers: only four hundred students had even gotten to the fifth day. Over six hundred 'promising' chefs had been cut away like fat being trimmed from a steak.

Incompetence had been successfully weeded out.

Now was the time for passion, for individuality to take over.

Erina's nose wrinkled slightly at the conflicting scents that mingled in the air. Some traces would have been more than appetizing had they not come together. She subtly raised her hand to pinch her nose closed and took shallow breaths from her mouth to try and limit the amount of mingling she sensed. She heard the crisp sounds of apples being cut and wondered vaguely if there was a dessert specialist this year.

An hour into the cooking session, Erina almost wanted to scream and slump onto the table, though she fought the urge to do something so uncouth. She hadn't realized that the students would use the _entire amount of time given_. The other groups hadn't taken nearly as long, many students just rushing to make something and getting the task over with. Some had slipped with minor errors, but they had managed to fix them in time for Erina to reluctantly judge the food as 'okay'. It seemed that this group didn't want to risk that at all; Erina noticed one particular girl with hair just a couple shades browner than her best friend had tasted her dish at least three times, making subtle changes after each tasting. She wondered vaguely how the flavors would compare; perhaps some of the students in the room were Elite Ten worthy? She glanced around to see if she could identify some of the other students that her colleagues had pointed out.

The dark hair of the girl Sōma was interested in was nowhere to be seen, though the boy with wild orange hair that seemed to be her friend poked out from the crowd near the back. The boy with practically black hair that had singlehandedly run a restaurant the day before was near the front, constantly glancing over to Erina as though he was gauging her reaction to what he was doing while also watching every single step of his work. Others seemed to have equally odd colored hair, though Erina didn't see anyone else of note.

Students began to slowly come up to her with shaking hands filled with dishes of beautifully prepared food, as if offering to a vengeful god. Erina would take a single bite, allow her God's Tongue to take over, and either tell them to try again or to leave the room in a cold voice. Not a single dish struck her the way that Sōma's dishes could've. She wasn't too disappointed by this; she hadn't expected any to do so. Only a handful of dishes from the last session had gotten close, and only two had given her vivid imagery that took her a couple of minutes to return to the world from. She wondered if any other dishes would give her that same reaction. It was that reaction that she craved, that solely physical reaction that meant that she was completely taken from this plane of existence and catapulted into the next.

"Chef Nakiri? Please taste my dish."

The pinkish-brunette stood in front of her. Erina remembered her from the others' stories: a timid girl that was as loud as Yūki had once been outside of the kitchen. A girl with confidence in herself, but no confidence in her cooking.

She stood in front of her now, her shoulders squared, a delicate display of sashimi and caviar on her plate.

"Please, enjoy," she said while bowing to the former Second Seat, feeling her legs begin to tremble in the few seconds that it took for Erina to reach out and take the plate out of her hand.

Tuna had been cut paper thin, showing the care of the girl who had prepared it. What Erina had seen the girl preparing was a special rice that had been kneaded with thinly cut seaweed, sesame seeds, soy sauce, and something that Erina's nose could not quite identify, which had been arranged in small balls that were then topped with orange and black fish roe that had been mixed together and placed in small, exact amounts on the sticky granules. Every part of the dish showed the girl's consciousness and care, something that Erina made sure to note.

Erina looked at the tenderly cut raw fish, rice, and fish eggs on her plate before picking up a piece of tuna so thin that she could see through it. She carefully wrapped the fragile fish around the rice-and-roe before placing the entire bundle into her mouth. Erina closed her eyes to completely shut off her other senses and allow her taste buds to take over.

A scene suddenly appeared in front of her: blue light filtered from above. Erina gasped, but instead of a faint breath, bubbles escaped out of her mouth. Brininess filled her blonde head of hair. She was floating underwater, deep enough to be completely submerged with ten feet of water above her head, but not deep enough for her vision to be significantly marred. It wasn't the depth that had made her gasp, though; schools of fish of all colors darted through her vision. The iridescent scales of the creatures flashed in her eyes, creating a light show that she was more than mesmerized by. Some of the more adventurous animals swam up to her, poking at her arms and legs and making her laugh slightly at their slight touches. The myriads of fish swam all around her now, overwhelming her, and she felt her eyes close. Erina slipped back into the conscious world.

She opened her eyes and smiled slightly at the nervous girl in front of her. "You pass. Go ahead and leave the room."

The girl's eyes lit up and she bowed, practically whispering her gratitude as she made her way to the door.

As if encouraged, another student eagerly approached with her own dish. Erina's expert eyes could already see the mistakes, though she bit her tongue to prevent herself from sneering openly.

She hesitantly bit into the food and closed her eyes. It was as if a shark had come to devour all of the fish around her, though the shark was struggling to swim as it moved. It was rather pitiful, actually.

"Try again, please," she said in as detached a tone as she could manage. The student visibly deflated and took the plate back to her workplace.

It took quite a while before another student Erina recognized from previous encounters was done. This time, it was the boy with bright orange hair and strange silver eyes. He smiled widely at her before silently setting his plate down in front of her.

Erina looked down at the rather eccentric-looking dish in front of her. The presentation was far more suited to the likes of her white-haired Danish cousin than her, but she wasn't one to complain about little things like that (at least, in her opinion). She just decided to take a wild guess and picked one of the mysterious food parcels up and put it into her mouth.

Soup exploded in her mouth in what she finally realized was a play on gnocchi. The boy had somehow been able to fill the potato parcels with a thin, watery soup that was filled with a buttery chicken flavor, all reduced to a fresh wash of sage and clove to wash out the aftertaste. It was a surprisingly tame attempt to her. She gave the boy a slightly disbelieving look, but saw the look of patience and anticipation in his eyes. This made her glance over the other gnocchi and pick up one of the ones that seemed to be slightly redder than the one she had eaten.

Flavor exploded in her mouth. She felt herself grovel in the earth, scrabble through caves, blood spilling from huge scrapes across her elbows and knees from her adventuring. The dust got caught in her hair, sticking to her thick sweat and adding even more layers over her dirty body.

It was a combination: from rough to clean. A gemstone being polished into a jewel. Erina's mouth quirked at the implied simile. She looked the boy in the eyes again; he seemed appeased.

"You're free to leave," she said concisely, sitting up straighter. "Thank you for your dish."

The boy smiled more openly, let out an audible sigh, and turned to walk out of the room. The door swung shut to his exuberant whoops, shouts of joy that were cut off by a more insistent shushing from a girl who looked like the one who had taken Erina on an underwater adventure. Erina smiled more softly at this interaction before erasing all emotion from her face.

More lackluster dishes were allowed to pass, since neither Erina nor her palate couldn't find any glaring flaws besides unpolished skill. She shrugged it off and let them through, knowing that Stagiare would probably weed out any who hadn't polished themselves in time.

The final dish of the day was from the dark-haired boy. His appearance still looked just as clean as it had at the beginning of the period, though his uniform was significantly more dirty. He held a professional-looking dish that he slid in front of Erina with a "Chef Nakiri, if you please."

A scallop, with a frothy white foam on top of a layer of bright green purée and resting on a bed of sprouts. Erina inhaled the fragrant smell of sage and seaweed mixed into the purée and smirked slightly. She took a bite of the offered food.

What she expected was not what she got. She thought the boy had copied the two before him. He had taken their ingredients and completely transformed them; seaweed and sage became a base in his flavors from which the scallops, sprouts, and peas flourished. She felt herself walking through a meadow, pea plants and sprouts gently brushing against her thighs as she pushed the thin strands of plant aside with a light hand. Occasionally, white butterflies would land on her and flutter a bit before flying off again as scallop notes came and went. She stepped on a soil of herbs and felt their invigorating essences sink into her through her feet, which rooted around in the damp earth.

Erina looked at the boy, a new air of respect palpable around her. "You pass." She stood up to leave as he did the same. They walked in relative silence back to the hotel, the boy giving Erina wide-eyed glances all the way there. Once they had returned to the building, Sōma was waiting for them in the foyer.

"Hey, Erina-san," he said casually. Erina thanked whatever god was watching out for her that he managed to treat her with respect around a student. "Looks like you finally made it back. Dojima-san's about to announce the last challenge."

Erina saw the way his eyes sparkled as he saw the student slump slightly next to her. "Don't tease the boy," she admonished.

Sōma winked at him. "You're nearly there, come on. I believe in you," the red-haired chef said airily. He pushed himself between the two of them and laid a hand on each one's shoulder as he ushered them into the main room. "It's the final task. _No one_ fails the final task!"

"Maybe I'll be the first," the student mumbled, though he clearly didn't expect the two alumni to hear him.

"I highly doubt it, Shen-kun," Sōma said lightly. Adrian flushed bright red when he realized that Sōma actually knew who he was. "Anyhow, you'll see what it is in a few moments, so just relax and get ready!"

They left the student with the crowds as they walked backstage.

"You're such a tease," Erina scoffed. "Poor kid's probably counting the number of days he has left to live."

Sōma shrugged. "It's true, though. No one fails this task, especially this year."

Erina shushed him as they walked onstage, joining their peers. She could see the smile playing on Akira's and Satoshi's faces; after all, this had been their little brainchild for the past couple of days.

Dojima tapped the mike to ensure that it was on. "Hello, students," he rumbled. "It's been quite a hectic few days for you. Of the over one thousand students that entered, only four-hundred thirty-six will be leaving. More than seven hundred students have been culled in this week alone, more than in any past years. You should be proud to be part of this group that has survived.

"Now, I'm sure you want to know what's behind these curtains."

The students nodded despite themselves. They were in a different room, with the four corners of the room curtained off and draped in mystery. Some of the kids looked resigned to a fate of a final grueling task.

"Well, I'm here to tell you exactly what your next task is. Yukihira Sōma, Nakiri Erina, Hayama Akira, Aldini Takumi, Mito Ikumi, Kuga Terunori, Isshiki Satoshi, and Tsukasa Eishi, will you please step up here?"

The eight named alumni walked up silently, their expressions hiding their intentions.

"These alumni have decided to come together to teach you something today, students," Dojima said with a smirk.

"This final task will be for you to judge their simultaneous Shokugeki."

Dojima waved a hand, and the curtains dropped, revealing cooking stations that boasted the best equipment, sparkling clean and sharp knives, and an overflow of bowls and plates.

"Two alumni will be working together at each station, and it will be your jobs to judge their dishes. Those of you sharp enough to recognize these names might be asking why Miss Kinokuni isn't taking part.. Simply put, she had a previous engagement and chose to leave early, though she has prepared appetizers for you to enjoy. The theme is these chefs' specialties, and there are no ingredient limits.

"So please, students, enjoy yourselves as you watch these chefs cook. Take note of what they do. And don't be afraid if they ask for your help."

He gestured for the eight alumni to walk over to their stations.

"Chefs, start cooking!" he roared as a hidden timer went off and the alumni sprang into motion.

* * *

 **So if you're reading this, I'd assume you're still curious about my future plans. Well, I'm here to tell you almost exactly what I'm planning next. What would that be? Why, none other than the prequel to this story. This prequel will cover the 92nd Generation's third year, though there is a slight twist on the scenario. I'm not going to specify headmasters because in my headcanon, the third years have proved themselves worthy and are left to squabble amongst themselves over graduation order/places in the Elite Ten. There will be fifteen students at the beginning of the school year, which will then be pared down to the nine that were specified earlier in this story. Now, what do I need from you? Why, part of the twist I'm going to include requires a few OCs. I could make OCs, the way I have here, but what's the fun in that? For this reason, I'm going to open this up to you guys. I will admit that I'm rather picky when it comes to OCs, so there will be a series of rounds as to what I want to hear from you. I would prefer completely original characters (as in, they haven't been written into a story or anything yet) but if you have a fallback character that you just love to death, I won't complain. I currently have 13 spots open, though that can shrink or grow depending on interest. I open this to you now so you can start sending characters to me if you want haha.**

 **All I ask for right now is in this form. If you add anything more, I will ask you to resend your information. Nothing can reference who you are as a person; I don't want any self-inserts. Also, please be flexible for me! If there are too many foreigners, I will have to ask those people with characters that seem to be arbitrarily foreign to make their characters Japanese/change names and backstories to make this work out. Sorry for being so specific, but it helps us all in the long run :)**

 **Name:**

 **Gender:**

 **Sexuality (if trans, please specify whether FTM or MTF):**

 **Hair color and style:**

 **Eye color and style:**

 **Skin tone:**

 **Nationality:**

 **Approximate height (i.e. as tall as Sōma, tall-ish, an inch taller than Kuga (lol)):**

 **Approximate weight (i.e. lighter than it would seem, average, slightly overweight):**

 **Brief personality; for this round, please keep it between 5-10 adjectives and give at least two negative traits:**

 **Three sentences as to why your character wants to go to Tōtsuki/what their goals as a chef are:**

 **You will see that there is literally nothing about cooking here. I don't want cookie cutter appearing characters, and this is also to help you branch out in your character's development. You don't have to think about their specialties already; just think about what kind of person you want walking around Tōtsuki.**

 **That should be it. Send me your applications whenever you want! You get until a week after I post the last chapter of this story to send in your first round applications :D**

 **One thing about this chapter: I know who the alumni teams will be, but I'd like to hear your opinion of who you want to see working together. Go ahead and leave me a review, and I'll hopefully have the chapter out in less than two months orz**

 **-Shriayle**


	19. DAY 5: SHOKUGEKI

**I got too lazy to add in all of the diacritical marks and such for letters, so here's a somewhat unedited version of the chapter. I kept you all waiting far too long.**

 **Also, the chapter after this is the last one. 20 seems like a nice even number to end on.**

 **If you sent in an OC and you are a guest, could you get in contact with me via email? I put my email address on my profile. I just have a lot of other rounds of questions to ask about your characters and unfortunately I can't PM guests. Speaking of the OC submission, I currently have 11 OCs between 10 people to choose from. I still need a few more~ Please, send in your OCs to me if you want them to be in a future installment of** _ **Welcome to Hell**_ **!**

 **REPLIES:**

 **eri1551 (Guest):** That combination is a little too expected for me, but yes, it would be an interesting one :D | **FoulIceQueen:** Ice cream? Me? You flatter me :) And send in as many as you want, though I might just choose one if I get a ton of applications.| **CeKhay:** That would be an interesting combo, though Stagiare was more than enough of that duo for me, haha. | **aGirlWhoLovesBlueAdidas:** Aaaaand you got one combo down right :D | **Guest (1):** That isn't a possibility, sorry. I have a very specific usage for these characters. | **Demon Damian:** Emojis in reviews would be really colorful and somewhat confusing. Erina is impressed because she didn't expect a fifteen-year-old to be able to pull off cooking like that. It's like when a puppy learns a new trick and you show it off to your friends. And nope this fic is rated T go to Hypocrisy for anything M pls and thank you. omg don't make me eat all of that food i already have no appetite naturally i barely eat anything all day that much food would actually kill me | **Guest (2):** Aaand nope. | **Vayan Bora:** Thanks! | **l Hypocrisy l:** Sorry mate, not happening :P Mostly because they would get distracted and the others know that. | **Onigiri-Madoshi:** A lot of people want that combo, surprisingly. It's not really possible, given the parameters I forced on myself, but eh. Kinda regret not including our favorite grumpy pink-haired guy in this fic more. | **Nameless I am:** I love Isshiki-Kuga possible interactions. They're just so freaking different. Isshiki is also my favorite character yeeeee i have converted you | **Sai Og Sus:** I mean, that is true (squid-wise) | **YokaiAngel:** Thank you!

* * *

"The alumni are..." Umiko gasped.

"...going to..." Kaede stuttered.

"...have a Shokugeki?!" Seoyun finished, her eyes wide open in shock as pans started sizzling and the smell of frying oil began to dance across the air. "In front of us?!"

"Th-this is amazing..." Adrian said, looking around in awe.

Sōma, who happened to overhear their words, smirked at their complete awe. "You haven't seen anything yet," he said with a loud, gleeful laugh, surprising them. "Turn up the fire, Isshiki-senpai!"

As the students gaped at them, Satoshi opened his eyes, smiled in a sinister manner, winked at Sōma, and turned up all four dials on their stove. Flames leapt out of each grate, rushing into the air and leaving behind a faint smell of gas. He immediately flicked his wrist, spreading oil effortlessly across the pans in front of him.

"It's time to recreate the past, Sōma-san," he said, his voice accompanied by the harsh sizzling of cold chunks of fish touching hot oil.

"You think you can win?" Ikumi called over from her and Terunori's station. "You haven't seen anything yet!" She walked behind her station, unconsciously licking her lips in anticipation. A few seconds after she completely disappeared, some students yelped and backed away as a rack of meat went flying across the floor, a metal pole bracing it against a counter before it could go out of control. Terunori leaned over and nonchalantly grabbed the rack so that the viscera of the meat wouldn't splatter across the food, his face set in a mildly bored expression as though he had seen it happen before. A single drop of blood flew onto his cheek, and he rubbed it off with a long-enduring sigh. Thanking him with a nod, Ikumi shooed Terunori away before smiling to herself, closing her eyes, and gripping the knives sheathed at her upper arms. After a few seconds of meditation, a vicious smirk carved across her face, her eyes snapped open and alert, and the knives came flying out of the sheathes and into her hands, blades swiftly and precisely cutting through the meat hanging on the rack. Only the best of the meat fell onto a tray that had been carefully situated below the dangling flesh, catching the portions to be used. Ikumi picked the tray up with a foot before reclaiming it with her hands and passing it off to Terunori.

"It's going to get a little hot in here," he said, snickering. Powders started flying out of his hands, coating the meats in careful blends that would maximize both the students' enjoyments and leave them begging for the rest of their dishes, which would take the spice away just as swiftly.

"Don't get your hopes up," Akira called out. "You've added too much tianjin pepper to your mix. I'm afraid that you'll be giving your victory over to us." The white-haired chef stirred the food in his pot one last time before crumbling a handful of dried leaves into it. As the aroma floated around him, Akira closed his eyes, nodded, and passed the ladle onto his own partner, who used it to take out the boiled vegetables and laid them on a cutting board before him. He decided to trust Akira's nose and prepped the mezzaluna in his hand, stretching his fingers a little before swiftly and easily turning the vegetables into a sauce with the curved blade.

"They've got no idea of what's to come. We're ready with this step," Takumi announced, scraping the sauce into a bowl before moving to melt a stick of butter into a different pot.

"Hmph! If you think your plebeian nostrils can overcome my palate, you've got another thought coming soon, Hayama-san," Erina said with a sniff, bringing her own pot up to a boil. She carefully put another pot inside of the boiling water, setting up a double boiler, while Eishi silently chopped up blocks of a dark brown substance and threw them in casually. The precise knife movements caught all of the students' eyes as they watched the man they thought to be tremulous and shaken become a calm yet forceful presence in the kitchen.

"It would be unfortunate if any of us messed up now. This will be ready in ten minutes precisely," he told Erina, twisting the knob of a pepper grinder to sprinkle in fine black particles into the melting solid.

"I'll start cutting up the meat," she said in response, going to the refrigerator to procure the aforementioned ingredient. The animals that she brought out made some of the nearby students blink in surprise and interest, since they hadn't ever seen meat of the sort Erina presented. The animals were small, perhaps the size of a large chicken, though they had long legs. They had already been skinned and gutted, so there wasn't much else that the students could draw on to find out what sort of food she and Eishi were preparing. However, the other alumni, especially the youngest members of the alumni, recognized what Erina was working with.

"Did you get those from Yoshino-san, Nakiri-san?" Sōma called over, noting the same details that the students had but realizing what it was that the blonde chef was preparing almost immediately.

"But of course," Erina responded smoothly, her hands moving independently of her mind as they rushed to finish her preparations. "She has the most knowledge of these sorts of things in our year, after all."

Sōma chuckled. "You've got that right," he said amiably, flinging what looked like an entire mountain of rice into a pot and putting a lid on top. "I wouldn't trust anyone else with such things." He backed away just as Satoshi approached the pot and put in what looked like a handful of sticks wrapped together in a mesh net. He gingerly smelled the ensuing aroma and nodded in satisfaction.

"At least now I don't feel bad about asking Shun-san for some of his meats," Sōma said with a bark-like laugh. He casually flipped the fish that Satoshi had set out at Erina's curious glance.

Terunori gritted his teeth at Akira's slight jab at him and harrumphed loudly. "We'll see whose seasoning is wrong after this battle," he vowed under his breath, focusing on the task at hand. Ikumi raised an eyebrow at his reinvigorated efforts but shrugged mentally and merely turned on the grill when her former upperclassman gestured for her to do so. The entire room began to fill with the spicy scent of the grilled beef within a matter of moments, making the students all salivate and Akira grimace as the smell began to waft over to his station.

"I can't cook like this," he snapped to Terunori, who just gave him an innocent and toothy grin in response.

"At least you can make sure if your prediction about the tianjin was right or not," Takumi muttered under his breath as he reduced a pile of boiled potatoes to fine mush with the mezzaluna. He took the butter off of the stove and poured it into the potato mash, adding in eggs and cream as well as creating a personal cloud with the amount of flour he poured into the batter. The Italian-born chef finally put his mezzaluna to the side before diving into the batter with his bare hands and mixing it all together with deft fingers. Akira glanced over and nodded in approval at the scent of rosemary that drifted from the buttery mix before throwing some more stalks of samphire into his pot of boiling water for a second batch of sauce. He grimaced at the handicap that had been presented to him.

Meanwhile, Terunori inhaled the spicy scent that Akira avoided and felt it settle deep in his chest. The slight warmth that accompanied the spice made him sigh out loud in contentment. Ikumi snickered at his peaceful expression, to which he responded with a dirty look and a scowl.

"Aw, you looked so cute, too," she teased, wielding the knife that had been strapped to her right leg and preparing to dice the onions she had before her. Terunori eyed the blade: twelve inches of stainless steel, painstakingly and lovingly sharpened and polished every night for at least twenty minutes each. While he really wanted to snap at her, he decided that he was going to wait for her to put the utensil down first, so he turned back around, gritting his teeth in mild annoyance.

"H-how are they cooking so well while they needle each other like that?" Umiko asked, sounding mildly dazed. Her wide eyes followed the chefs' hands as knives flashed in their hands and flung powders into pots and pans while they simultaneously made eye contact with one another and shouted jeers and taunts at one another.

"I'm assuming that they have a lot of practice," Seoyun said drily, extremely entertained by the somewhat petty insults that the alumni shouted at each other. "It's like they never outgrew high school."

"All of the alumni here have some sort of history with one another," a voice behind the two of them said. They slowly turned around to see Mizuhara standing behind them, a tray of hors d'oeuvres balanced on her hand. She leaned forward slightly, angling her arm so that the food didn't fall off of the tray but she could show off the little bread pockets balanced on the tiny dishes she had. "Would you like an appetizer? Kinokuni-san prepared them before returning to her restaurant."

"Why did she have to return so quickly?" Seoyun asked while accepting a bread, her voice betraying the slightest hint of her disappointment.

"From what I recall, she is preparing to take over as head chef as soon as her father retires," Mizuhara responded, offering the appetizers to other students around her. "She spent a couple of hours preparing these appetizers for you, as she was scheduled to cook for you as well. Tsukasa-kun had to take over for her, but he seems to be doing well enough."

The students and alumna glanced over to the station, where the dark brown sauce had been removed from the double boiler and Eishi was dutifully stirring it to make sure it didn't seize up as other ingredients were added in. Next to him, Erina had put the meat into a large pot and was in the process of popping the cork off of a fresh bottle of red wine. She had by then added in roughly chopped vegetables and thrown in a large handful of parsley, followed by a generous helping of vinegar. The pot seemed to flicker in flame for a second as she added in the wine, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction as she watched the mixture boil.

"Y-yeah, I think Tsukasa-sama is doing well enough," Seoyun said faintly at the display.

Mizuhara nodded to them before moving on to offer other students the appetizers.

Seoyun blinked as she glanced down at the innocuous little pouch of dough in her hand. She wondered idly what Nene had come up with as she popped the bread into her mouth.

Immediately, her eyes flew open. The bread had been filled with a rich, creamy inside that exploded with egg and curry in her mouth. Her teeth felt the crisp texture of green apple and crunched through the chunk with a satisfying snap, releasing a tart flavor into the already complicated profile that filled her mouth. The flavors came and went, reminding Seoyun of her adventures through libraries, searching for hidden secrets. Behind closed eyelids, she could relive those moments of searching, of digging through tomes and finding the one secret answer to all of her questions, represented by some mysterious flavor profile that she had never come across before. A satisfaction that refused to go away even after the last bite of food escaped down her throat filled Seoyun's chest, expanding until it filled her very being.

She felt as though she went through a religious experience by the time she was able to open her eyes. She could see the same dazed feeling that characterized her mind reflected back in Umiko's eyes.

If that was what just one of the alumni could come up with in a couple of hours and prepare with little help, then what masterpieces would the chefs in front of her come up with?

The hours flew by quickly as the alumni's jibes and mastery over food caught the students in an enrapturing display. It was Terunori and Ikumi who finished first, the woman painting the last of the sauce on their first fifty dishes as the man flicked a final kick of powder across the dishes with a surprising tenderness.

"Come and get it!" Ikumi called out, smiling to the students as she turned to prepare more food. In no time, the first servings had been claimed and tasted.

This time, it was Kaede who had grabbed a dish. He dug his chopsticks into the plate of noodles and meat in front of him, picking up quite a bit before shoving a large amount of food into his mouth. He almost regretted his decision as the food set his mouth on fire, causing a sweat to break out across his forehead as the meat slipped down his throat easily. The noodles provided a sort of bouncy texture that his mouth was enthralled by, and they held their own complementary flavor rather than enhancing the rest of the flavor profile. Kaede felt the flavor flicker through his fingers, the meat a perfect envoy for the heat that the dish emphasized. The spiciness was addictive, making him want to eat more and more until he was filled, though it was possible that he would never be fully filled. It was as though the meat and spice combination was a flickering flame that he balanced on his finger, or on the end of a chain. He became a fire dancer, embers darting around him as he was led by the heat that he now became one with. He looked at his work in awe, but then looked up to see Terunori and Ikumi in their own dance, a far more enrapturing and dangerous one than the one he was embarking on. Seeing how far ahead the two alumni were in comparison to him didn't dissuade him; rather, he became more determined to one day be at that level and be able to create a dance of his own.

"Why don't you try our dish, as well?" Satoshi asked, a benevolent smile stretching across his face. He held out the plates himself as Sōma rushed to prepare more, his face split in a wide grin.

Umiko took the dish Satoshi offered her with trembling hands, still mildly affected by Nene's dish. She wasted no time in spooning up both fish and rice and putting the combination in her mouth.

She felt herself gasp audibly as the food touched her tongue. She couldn't pinpoint the flavor immediately; rather, she was suddenly whisked to a land of green leaves and laughter. The trees around her were tinted a light chartreuse, meaning that it wasn't quite summer yet as the leaves had yet to become completely saturated with chlorophyll. She stopped examining the trees as a flurry of petals caught her attention and made her notice the group of teenagers that were in the fields.

She recognized the location but not the figures. Some of them felt vaguely familiar to her, while others were shrouded in mystery. And yet, their actions were completely familiar. They were working the fields, shouting and singing as they did so. She ran up to them, and though she didn't know who they were, they smiled and welcomed her with open arms, letting her join in with them. It was a homey feeling, one of acceptance. Another storm of pink flowers swept past her, and one girl in the group began to sing. "Sakura, sakura," her voice carried over to Umiko.

Umiko's eyes began to well up as the rest of the teenagers joined in. She knew why the actions, the locations were familiar.

It was her hometown. This was what she and her friends did at the beginning of each springtime.

"Minami-san?! Are you alright?"

Umiko blinked rapidly, yanked rather gracelessly out of her fantasy by Seoyun's frantic voice. "I'm fine," she said faintly.

"You're crying, though!" Seoyun said.

Umiko touched her face numbly. Her fingers came back wet. "So I am," she said, her voice barely louder than her breath. "But it's okay, I think. I'm not upset." She looked up at Sōma and Satoshi. The former was still preparing more servings, but the latter caught her eye. His expression softened and he nodded in recognition of the powerful emotions that had swept through her.

Takumi and Akira finished next, the former draining the final drops of water from their dish while the latter mixed in one last herb blend into their sauce. A last flick of both of their wrists over their bowls, a nod of solidarity.

" _Ѐ fatta!_ " Takumi called out, gesturing rather grandly with his arms before realizing that his water was about to boil over and hurriedly tending to the aftermath.

"Please, try some," Akira added, handing out bowls of food.

Seoyun poked at the white balls in her bowl, picking up a little dab of the green sauce that accompanied it and placing it on her tongue. That single drop alone was enough to make her eyes widen she felt the flavor dance across her palate. The flavor was enough to convince her to shove an entire ball of dough into her mouth.

It was a flavor bomb. The buttery broth that the dough balls, which she now recognized as gnocchi, had been cooked in was also incorporated into the food. The sauce was another aspect of the flavor; alone, it had been an herbal, briny flavor that had been full of body in its own right. Now, it was another layer of flora in the garden that Akira and Takumi had cultivated with each bite before presenting it to them. She could taste each individual herb distinctly, and if she closed her eyes, each one became another colorful blossom in a collection of literally hundreds of combinations of pinks, purples, and yellows. Each aspect of the flavor became another flower that she could appreciate. Walking through the garden showed her just how so simple a food could become so intricate and beautiful a creation. She was left feeling completely at peace.

When she opened her eyes, she was almost surprised that she wasn't surrounded by the flowers of her imagination. Akira and Takumi had taken her imagination and almost bent it to their will, turning her fantasy into a reality she could practically swear by. She was awed by their skill, the level at which their manipulation skills were at. She struggled to show her own visions so easily; they had done so with finesse and ease, adding ingredients almost whimsically in a fashion that they knew would be good. It was that innate knowledge that Seoyun envied, that she yearned to gain. She felt even more determined to gain that encyclopedic amount of knowledge and that even vaster amount of talent.

It took a little bit longer for the final team of chefs to finish their dishes, but when they did, the students were amazed by the results. Three pieces of meat sat in a bowl of thick, rich soup that smelled both tender and rich at the same time. Vegetables garnished the meat, spreading some color throughout the dish, and a swirl of light colored sauce tied the entire dish together. Adrian held the bowl in his hand and admired the food for a second longer than he had to before carefully picking up one of the pieces of meat and putting it in his mouth.

He felt his legs tremble slightly. The food was so perfect, so intact that every part of it blended seamlessly into one another. The meat was succulent yet light, with little to no fat content, and the sauce clung to the meat as he chewed. The sauce itself was surprisingly sweet, with a creamy texture.

"They put unsweetened chocolate into the dish," he muttered to himself, each individual flavor prodding at a different sensor in his mouth. "And the meat is rabbit."

"It's a hassenpfeffer," he heard from behind him. When he turned, Erina was standing at her station, preparing more servings with as light a hand as she could manage. "A traditional German stew."

"You prepared peasant food today, Nakiri-san?" Sōma called out from his station, where he finished the last of his preparations. "How unlike you." He turned away with a smug smile.

"Listen here, you little trickster," the blonde chef shot back, brandishing the spoon in her hand towards his direction and nearly splattering the students in front of her with sauce. "Stupid artist," she muttered under her breath.

"Artist?" Adrian asked, though he was a little afraid of her response.

"Nakiri-san, could you help me with these plates?" Eishi asked, glancing over before realizing that he interrupted Adrian's question. His eyes immediately flew open, revealing his shockingly pale irises. "A-ah! Excuse me! I didn't mean to interrupt! Oh no, I always do this. Please, carry on, I'll handle it myself." He walked away, balancing a large stack of plates in his hands.

"Tsukasa-senpai! Let me help you with those!" Erina said hurriedly, rushing over to take half of the plates off of the teetering stack in his hands and effectively cutting the conversation off.

Adrian blinked in mild confusion before turning to the plate of food again. He took another bite and closed his eyes, relishing in the wild flavor of the meat and the embracing flavor of the sauce. He felt himself get whisked away from the camp, his body light as air, as rabbits seemed to float around him, joining in his jaunt through the air. It was a strangely phantasmagoric sensation, one that was both otherworldly in nature and in essence, and it wasn't one that he expected from simply eating something. Previously, food wasn't something that gave him such a deep amount of emotion. It was something he created to please others.

This food?

It was made to elevate itself, to almost belittle the eater, to show just how outclassed they were by a single taste.

Unbeknownst to Adrian himself, a little spark clicked within his very being. It was still small, not yet the blazing inferno that each of the alumni chefs cultivated, but it was the start of something huge, something that could easily sweep Tōtsuki off of its feet. He realized that, of course.

Instead of scaring him or intimidating him, as usual, he was inspired by it.

He would become one of the best, no, he would be _the best_. The name Shen Adrian would go down in the books as one of Tōtsuki's top alumni, and he would set fire to the tattered papers that history was written on. He would transform and transcend normal cooking.

Adrian smiled inwardly and took another bite of rabbit.

The alumni finished their final few dishes and distributed them. All of the students inhaled the scents of the foods and already felt sated, eating the food only to realize that their appetite had been peaked all the more. The alumni's food was like a drug, one that urged you to keep eating from the headiness of the eating sensation. The students had tasted good food that they had wanted to eat before, but not of this caliber.

Dōjima tapped the microphone to regain their attentions. "Well? Have you reached a verdict?"

The students froze. They forgot that the dinner they had been treated to was in fact a Shokugeki, one that they had to judge.

Dōjima smiled at their collective confusion and panic. "Don't worry, we didn't expect you to come to a conclusion, or at least, one that the alumni would be able to accept."

Sōma coughed loudly in protest.

"Congratulations for managing to survive what was probably the most brutal camp yet," Dōjima continued. "More than half of the original number were sent home during this past week. Among the over one thousand students we started with, you have remained. This is what your potential is. These alumni before you have survived the same thing and more trials yet. This is what you should aim for."

The eight alumni that had cooked stood with Dōjima now.

"Good luck to you, students," Dōjima announced. "May you never lose sight of your goals."

* * *

 **Thanks for your support of the story! Epilogue is up next, and after that..?**

 **Send in your OCs and you'll find out~**

 **-Shriayle**


	20. THE NEXT DAY

**Thanks for sending in your characters! I had so many sent in that were lovely, but I could unfortunately only take 13 for the story, and since I have more than 13 to choose from, I'm cutting off the character submissions there. At the end of this final chapter, there will be a list of people whose characters I have chosen! If you are one of those people, please expect a few follow-up emails sent to you about your characters' cooking style, an in-depth history, etc. If you weren't chosen, don't fret! I might see if I can squeeze your characters into this story, especially in the section with unspecified new Polar Star students.**

 **Anyhow, final chapter. It's here. Thank you so much for sticking with this story, and I hope you stick around for the follow-up ones! What follow-up ones, you ask? Why, you'll have to read the final A/N to find out :)**

 **REPLIES:**

 **NefCanuck:** You can't have a SnS fanfic without writing a Shokugeki into it, haha. One of the cardinal rules, methinks. And yeah, Erina's trying to make a point, though it went completely over Sōma's head as per the norm. | **bill2011us:** That's it for now, check in later~ All your questions will most likely be answered in the next installments. | **YokaiAngel:** Thank you! | **Cat McHall:** Eishi has succumbed to the realization that he can't be the one doing everything at once, especially when there are 400 mouths to feed. | **I'm a Guest (Guest):** Uhh... | **l Hypocrisy l:** Nice profile pic, by the way. And yes, it's coming, it's coming~ | **aGirlWhoLovesBlueAdidas:** Have you been reading my story notes? And yes, many more Shokugeki stories are on the horizon! | **DJDrake:** Your question will be answered in this last chapter~ | **Neroj:** Haha, everyone's asking about these things! I tried to wrap it up here, and yeah, you've got the right story. | **FoulIceQueen:** Haha, I tried ;w; Thanks for your enthusiasm! | **Lunahras:** Quality? O/O I mean, I try, haha. Ahhh thank you for your kind words! And I can't believe I spelled that wrong. I'll have to fix that in the editing process, haha... | **Demon Damian:** Why do you try so hard with reviews haha while I really appreciate it :P I might have to use your description in the next story..? The pairings were fun to come up with, as were the one-liners that the characters were shouting at each other. And information on my next work is in the author's note at the bottom~

* * *

The four hundred-or-so remaining students were dragging their luggage behind them as they left the main Tōtsuki Resort building and headed for the buses that would take them back to the Academy. As the mass of people left, a few specific students straggled behind.

"I wonder where the alumni all are," Umiko commented as she glanced about.

"I'd assume that most of them are heading back to their restaurants to regain some semblance of control of their lives," Seoyun responded wryly.

"You'd be right there, Mun-chan." A somewhat familiar voice spoke up.

The group of students whipped around, their eyes widening dramatically as they recognized the people in front of them: Tsukasa Eishi, Kuga Terunori, Shinomiya Kojiro, and Mizuhara Fuyumi all stood, their own bags rolled out behind them. It had been the last chef who had spoken to them, though all four sported similar disinterested looks.

"A-ah!" Umiko said, jumping. She immediately bowed to them. "I mean no disrespect!"

"Stand up straight," Terunori snapped, sounding irate. When she flinched at his tone, he smirked and lightened his voice. "You're part of the group we let through. Show some pride in yourself, eh?"

Umiko gave him a shaky smile in response.

"That reminds me," Mizuhara commented. She turned to Seoyun. "Kinokuni-san asked me to hand this to you." She held out a rather thick looking envelope.

Seoyun's brow furrowed as she took the envelope from the slate-haired chef. She looked it over before cautiously opening the envelope and perusing the contents of the letter it held. Her eyes grew wide. "Wh-what?!"

"It seems that Kinokuni-san was rather taken with your performance," Eishi said. "To be honest, you might be getting more of those kinds of offers from other chefs wanting to train you over break."

"You got invited to Kinokuni-sama's restaurant for training?!" Kaede shouted, a smile splitting his face apart. "Man, you get all of the luck, Mun-chan!"

"Don't call me Mun-chan!"

The students heard a loud snap as one of the chefs perked up and realized exactly who it was standing in front of him. "Ah, I was looking for you, too!" Kaede glanced up to see the Imp holding his hand out to him. "Well? Want to work with me this summer? It'll be brutal, and I'm not just talking about Beijing's shitty humidity issues."

This time it was Kaede who was struck speechless.

"Um, excuse me..." The group of alumni turned to the fourth person in the group. Adrian felt himself flush slightly; he still wasn't quite sure why he was with this ragtag group of his colleagues, but he had been with them and now he was paying for it. "If you don't mind my asking, where _did_ the other alumni go off to?"

"Many of us have restaurants in Europe and other parts of Japan," Shinomiya explained. "Most of us boarded a plane back home at once, since we have to deal with some idiots as our sous chefs sometimes. Then again, six of the alumni piled into a van to try and drive off somewhere. Something about a pilgrimage of sorts?"

The students blinked in confusion.

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

"Whose idea was it to let Sōma-san drive?" Ikumi snapped, struggling to stay in her seat without falling into someone else's lap, which had happened three times already.

"Hey, it's not my fault that this car has a tendency to wobble at wide turns," the red-haired chef responded cheekily, smiling all too innocently to really be innocent. If the others weren't clinging for their lives to stay firmly on the car seats, they would have given him identical burning glares.

"Why did you take such long turns, anyways?!" Takumi shouted at him, scrabbling at his seat. "We're all alone on a straight highway. There is nowhere to even need to turn!" He gestured towards the obviously straight highway that stretched out behind and in front of them. Suddenly, the car jerked to the side again and the blond shot out a couple of choice Italian curses as he lost his grip on the car seat.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Takumi-san?" Sōma called back to where the Italian was now teetering on someone's lap, having been thrown onto their legs. The blond chef glanced up to see that a very irate Akira was looking at him, an eyebrow raised sharply.

"I'm afraid I don't exactly swing that way, Aldini-san," he said through gritted teeth. Takumi felt himself blush ferociously, his eyes glinting in rage as he shoved himself off of Akira's lap and back into his seat.

"That's right! You swing for Nakiris, right Akira?" Sōma sang back, chuckling mischievously as he noticed Akira's now bright red face and heard his angered stuttering response.

"Nakiris?" Erina pronounced slowly, relaxing in the passenger seat she was thankful she claimed early. She glanced to the seats behind her: Ikumi was squished against a window, staring dutifully out of it, as Satoshi squeezed next to her, completely unperturbed by the car's sudden jolts, and Takumi and Akira fought to get some space on the car seat somehow. Of course, forcing four adults into the back of a car hadn't been the smartest idea, now that they all thought of it, and none of them were wearing seatbelts for that reason. Meanwhile, Erina was stretching out on a rather comfortable seat while Sōma was directing the car with a single finger on the bottom of the steering wheel, which made the blonde chef rather nervous.

"D'you mean that you didn't see how much your cousin was hanging off of Hayama-san?" Ikumi asked, an overly innocent expression on her face for a single second before she glared at the others again. Akira shot a look promising nothing but death towards her. She ignored him and continued on nonchalantly. "I mean, he didn't really complain or anything..." She was cut off by Akira's hand, which had been firmly clasped over her traitorous mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mito-san," Akira growled, ignoring Ikumi's muffled exclamations and attempts to lick his hand off of her mouth. The woman actually snarled and began to dutifully chew at Akira's fingers, finally dislodging him with a look of triumph to match his look of disgust.

"Settle down now," Satoshi said mildly. "We've still got a few hours left to drive. Conserve your excitement for later. After all, we're going back home."

* * *

"What kind of pilgrimage do you think the alumni are on?" Kaede mused aloud as the students slowly packed their luggage into the compartment under the bus.

"Probably one to find more techniques and keep learning," Seoyun said dismissively, hefting up a bag half her size and struggling to shove it into the cavity.

* * *

"How do you not know how to use a GPS? _Everyone knows how to use a GPS._ "

"I'm not everyone, Ikumi-san."

"Hayama-san, how have you survived this long?"

"Aldini-san, I'm doing my best right now."

"Maybe I should try..."

"You're the reason we're lost, Sōma-san."

"Damn, she's really going to kill us, isn't she?"

"Just you."

"Double damn."

* * *

"Maybe they're finding more techniques for their repertoire?" Umiko offered.

"Perhaps," one of her housemates said.

"More likely, they're fighting over whose techniques are better," Adrian muttered under his breath, still uncertain why he was hovering close by them.

* * *

"Anyhow, who wants a snack?"

"Yukihira Sōma-kun, if you open that container in this car, I will kill you and use your testicles for animelles and the rest of you as mincemeat."

"Geez Nikumi, no need to get so violent. You don't even know what it is."

"And _don't call me that!_ "

"What's your recipe supposed to be, Sōma-san?"

"Don't ask him that, Isshiki-senpai, it'll just tempt him to open it up and make us try some."

"Don't you want any, Hayama-san?"

" _No._ "

"It's marshmallows stir-fried with onions and served with dried squid! New recipe that I came up with while at the camp."

" _How in the world did you manage to stir-fry marshmallows_."

"I covered them in bacon fat first! It took a little experimentation, I will admit, but it worked out in the end." A winsome smile is met with identical looks of disgust, par one face that showed only innocent curiosity.

"Yeah, the second you open that up in an enclosed space is the second my knife enters your body."

"And I'd help in the butchering. My nose doesn't need to experience that wretched combination."

"You all are _boring_ and have no imagination."

* * *

"I bet they get along really well. Especially those five from the 92nd Generation."

"They all lived at Polar Star, right?"

"Well, mostly all of them, but from what I hear, Nakiri-sama pretty much lived with them."

"Yamaguchi-kun, why do you insist on calling all of the alumni -sama?"

"Gotta show them all respect, y'know? We're younger and less experienced and all of that."

"They're only seven years older than us."

* * *

"You are all the worst people that I know. Except for you, Isshiki-senpai. You're okay, as long as you have clothes on."

"I'll take that as a compliment of the highest order, Aldini-san!"

"I'm sure you do, Isshiki-senpai."

"You're the worst of all, Yukihira-san."

"Eh-?! Why _me_?! You're just asking for me to turn this car around."

" _Don't you dare, Yukihira Sōma._ "

"Yeah, listen to your princess, why don't you?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Mito-san."

"I'll take your tongue for lengua next, Hayama-san."

* * *

"Let me know when we get there, alright?"

"Uh, sure, Mun-san."

"A bit late for that response, Yamaguchi-kun. She's already out."

"How does she do that?"

"Practice, I would think."

* * *

"We're here, guys!"

"FINALLY."

Ikumi immediately threw the car door open and practically rolled out of the car and onto the ground, sighing in relief at the fresh air. Satoshi emerged much more sedately, brushing the lint off of his rather formal looking button-up shirt and black jeans, both of which were somehow without creases, while Takumi and Akira had already leapt out of the other door and were stretching their arms, wincing as they heard their joints crack quietly.

"About time you made it back here!" They heard the familiar barking voice and smiled at one another discreetly before turning to the irate grey-haired woman that had stormed out of the house. "You took at least half an hour longer than you said you would," she continued, tapping her foot impatiently at them.

"Sorry, Fumio-san," Satoshi said, smiling at her in his usual sedate manner. "We had a rather exciting trip over, which included finding out who is and isn't used to technological methods of getting to places."

Fumio blinked before her face set into a deadpan. "Who was it that didn't know how to work a GPS?" she asked with an exasperated sigh.

The five other alumni pointed over at Akira, who rolled his eyes and raised his hand in as blasé a manner as he could.

Fumio sighed. "Well, get in there and get started, go on!" she said, shooing them into the kitchen. "You already promised I wouldn't have to work today."

"Can't we stretch for a little longer?" Sōma asked, stumbling at a determined renewed push.

"No! You already dallied far too long." She ushered them even more quickly. "Get going."

* * *

"Man, that smells really good," Kaede commented as they pushed the door to Polar Star open. He smiled deviously back towards his friends. "Fumio-san must have really missed us."

"Not really," another voice said. Kaede whipped around to see Yoshino Yūki, former Tōtsuki student turned housekeeper of Polar Star, cradling one of her chickens and giggling to herself. "Fumio-san always cooks, but she just has some helpers this time."

"Helpers?" Adrian pronounced, still wondering why he had followed the other Polar Star students, even though he had his own apartment elsewhere. Before Yūki could answer, another voice cut in.

"Heyo, Yūki, can we get some more of your eggs? Takumi's going berserk with quiches and frittatas, and Hayama wanted to try a new recipe, with some spice or another that he got from Arabia or something..." The red-haired chef that had just stuck his head through the door trailed off as he noticed the shell-shocked students in front of them. A couple of seconds passed in silence as the chef blinked, uncertain of what to say or do.

The awkward silence was broken as another chef popped in, looking mildly annoyed. "What's taking you so long, Yukihira-san?" Akira snapped. "I need more eggs, and Aldini-san just used the last one..." He noticed the other people in the room. He got over it much more quickly than Sōma did. "Well, this is awkward. Now, can we continue on, please?"

Sōma snapped out of it. "Ah, yes. Yūki, the eggs?"

"Ah, right!" the orange-haired woman said with a bright smile. "I'll bring a few more over." She skipped off.

"Well, this surprise is less of a surprise than we hoped," Akira commented. "Just, er, stay here, I guess." He disappeared, pulling Sōma along with him and closing the door firmly.

The students were still shocked by the appearance of the alumni.

"Well, I guess we found out where their pilgrimage led them to," Kaede quipped.

"No kidding," Seoyun responded. "I wonder who decided to come here?"

"We won't find out just by standing here," Umiko commented, moving towards the dining room. "We might as well try and see where we can help out."

The students began to set the table, their anticipation building at the prospect of tasting the alumni's cooking.

"We're done!" They heard one shout excitedly an hour later. A second after that, the doors to the kitchen banged open and the students finally got to see the alumni for the first time, in their element.

The first one they saw was Takumi. The so-called Prince of the Moon was dressed in semi-formal clothes, somehow, with a collared white shirt and lightweight navy blazer-like jacket coupled with a pair of faded jeans. He was somehow balancing five different dishes filled with some kind of egg inside, each one with a different inside mixed in. He placed all five at what seemed to be breakneck speed, flicking his wrists and forearms deftly to put the dishes down, simultaneously revealing that he was holding five serving knives as well. With a slight smirk, he effortlessly cut up all five dishes, bowing and stepping back.

Akira was next, though all of the students could smell his food before even catching a glimpse of him. He only had three dishes with him, though they weren't all very similar at all. One seemed to be a pile of flat yellow cakes filled with green sprouts and herbs (Seoyun seemed to get excited by this platter of food), while another held a thick, warm brown curry-like substance and the last seemed to be a simple bowl holding a mountain of fragrant rice. He smiled at all of the students before placing the bowl of rice with the curry and placing the other platter right next to them. He took a pair of chopsticks out of his pocket, though it looked as though he pulled them out of mid-air, and flicked them a couple of times, splitting the cakes into eight equal portions each. Immediately, a small puff of steam rose from each cut, releasing an aroma so powerful that it soothed them all. Indeed, Akira had all but earned his title as the Aromatherapist after graduating Tōtsuki.

Erina was next. She had always had her title as the Bearer of the God's Tongue, but now she was able to execute it perfectly. She only had one dish to offer though she was holding two platters, but it baffled and intrigued the students all at once. It seemed too disorderly for someone like Nakiri Erina, the one who seemed so uptight and perfectionist at the camp, to create: pieces of lychee, pork, tiny chunks of garlic, all served with a creamy sauce that smelled like brine and barbecue. And yet, when all of the smells came together, they culminated in an exquisite scent that the students had never experienced before. She calmly placed both bowls down at opposite ends of the table before nodding to the students and stepping off with her colleagues.

Following his kouhai was Satoshi, who decided against walking through to door and moved a board out of the ceiling to jump down. He landed, the platters in his hands barely rattling at the soft impact, and smiled widely at the students, his sky blue eyes wide open and showing every single facet of his mirth. He bowed slightly before walking over and placing the platters down without any pomp and circumstance, taking the covers off as he retreated. The fresh scents of vegetables and chicken floated up to the students, the smells wreathing around them and wrapping them into a nostalgic memory without them even having to take a single bite. Satoshi smiled at their entranced expressions before walking away.

Ikumi followed Satoshi, using the door like a normal person this time. She kicked it open, like a not-normal person, the wooden slab slamming into the wall with a loud _THUD!_ as she sauntered out, arms bare of blades and face devoid of emotion. Suddenly, she gave a toothy smirk, placing the giant roast pig that she had prepared the day before down on the table with a _SLAM_ and taking a knife out of her back pocket. She closed her eyes, whispered to herself, and began to carve the pig in front of the students, her brow furrowed in concentration, eyes glazed over as she zoned out, the meat completely becoming her own world. Within minutes, the pig was reduced to neat pork cuts, the knife went back into the sheathe in her pocket, and she crossed her arms. Ikumi smiled, licked her lips, and strolled away.

The final alumni to emerge was Sōma. He was holding two different dishes, divided into four plates of food that he had balanced on his arms as skillfully as Takumi had. A devious grin stretched across his face and a flash of his teeth appeared for a single second as he placed his offering in front of the students. The children surged forward, eager to see what the former First Seat had concocted.

A simple stir-fry of chicken and miscellaneous vegetables sat in front of them. The students' disappointment must have been visible because Sōma laughed out loud and said, "Don't knock it until you try it, and to try this, I'll have to add a little something."

And a hand flicked out, and a pinch of what looked like breadcrumbs flew from his fingertips, and suddenly the entire ensemble glittered, the scent redoubling as the sparkling crumbs seemed to melt into the vegetables. The students looked to Sōma with awe in their eyes. He winked back at them.

"Hmph! Still behaving as theatrically as ever, you silly Picasso," Erina said with a sniff. Sōma snickered at that, neither affirming nor denying her comment.

"Well, what are you runts waiting for?" The students jumped out of their reveries as Fumio appeared behind them. "Go ahead, try their dishes."

The students surged forward and were entranced with each bite of food. They experienced different visions, all of them, though they were more interested in the alumni's interactions.

"You forgot oregano in that frittata, didn't you, Aldini-san?" Akira asked, pointing a fork towards the offending egg dish. "Tsk tsk."

"Oi! At least my dish can be enjoyed cold, you walking nose!" Takumi responded, gritting his teeth.

"Ladies, ladies, you're both pretty, alright?" Sōma said, waving a hand around, an impish grin stretching across his face. "And both of your dishes are fine."

"Shut it, Yukihira-san!" Both chefs shouted back in unison before bickering again.

"Now now..." Satoshi said, though his tone and expression suggested that he only did it because he was expected to, not because he thought it would have some sort of effect.

"Er, is this normal?" Umiko asked timidly. The other students had been pestering the chefs for their recipes, which they were happily given, but the pinkish-brunette had been sitting in patient silence.

"Oh, very," Erina said nonchalantly, not noticing how pink Umiko turned when _the_ Nakiri Erina responded to her. "They're just like children. They haven't grown at all."

"It's even more obvious when Kurokiba-san is with us. At least Ibusaki-san is mature enough to just watch it happen rather than take part in it," Ikumi added with a sigh.

"At least Tadokoro-san is able to keep them in track," Erina ended. "Though when Alice is here, she usually just mixes the chaos up even further, which isn't helpful at all."

"Reunions must be fun," Kaede commented, earning himself a sharp glance from Seoyun that he cringed away from.

"Very," Erina said drily.

Sōma just gave them an impish grin again before his eyes lit up and he turned back to his plate. "Wait, what if..." he murmured to himself before combining Akira's and Takumi's dishes together, much to the other chefs' horror.

"Oh great, there he goes, off on another project again," Ikumi grumbled as she watched Sōma try what seemed to be every variant of the alumni's dishes, spitting out the ones that didn't work well together and taking notes on the ones that did.

"What is he doing?" Seoyun asked, intrigued.

"Yukihira-san was known for his crazy ideas when we were going through Tōtsuki. It's most of the reason why he ended up on top; he was a storm of activity and wasn't afraid to stop trying new combinations. It got to the point where he could turn anything from a disaster into nothing short of artwork," Akira explained. "You may know him as the Son of the Devil, and that does encapsulate his work as a creator of chaos, but we knew him as the Artist, a creator of _structured_ chaos, a creator that knew exactly what he was doing with the nonsense he imagined."

"Yeah, none of these really work," Sōma cut in, neatly ending the conversation. "Anyhow, who wants to try my new recipe?"

"NO ONE DOES!" the other alumni said in unison, confusing the students and making Fumio and Yūki roll their eyes.

The day- and camp- closed on their sharing of food and recettes, of their celebration of the students' survival. And yet, the next day, when the alumni were at the airport waiting for their flights home, when Sōma and Erina were due to part, all they could do was embrace, with whispers of a future together, whispers of a future where they would meet again, when they were at the top once more.

 _ **The end...?**_

* * *

 **Okay, yeah, I know that the ending is weird. But this story has turned into what I plan to be the second in a trilogy! It's still the main story; the others are more like an extended prologue and epilogue to this. Up next on my to-do list is the prequel. Keep your eyes open for Welcome to Hell: Emperors' Edition! It's still in its planning stages, but I think it'll be just as interesting as Devils' Edition was. It might be a little bit longer, as it's going to span all of Third Year, but I'm hoping to keep it a bit more condensed if possible, haha.**

 **This story was so much fun to write! Thanks for sticking with me for so long, and for getting this story so many favorites, follows, and reviews! This was a wonderful adventure, and I hope you come with me on the next leg of this journey~**

 **-Shriayle**

 **WELCOME TO HELL: DEVILS' EDITION: A** _ **Shokugeki no Sōma**_ **fanfiction**

 **END WORD COUNT: 72,164 words (I think)**

 **P.S. The users whose characters have been chosen are Cat McHall, Black Supernova, Shored Kafka, SinsOfLove, BlizzardPhoenix222, BleachCadelina, MrAmoeba, Eramis8, FoulIceQueen, swishyla, NefCanuck, Demon Damian, and Nameless I am. If you were not named here, please wait to see if I contact you at a later time about using your character elsewhere.**


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